Depravity Falls
by The Infamous Fly
Summary: The show we all know and love depicted in my own twisted style. Will contain violent and disturbing imagery, extremely adult content/language, drugs, death, and mental illness. Season 2, Episode 12 (Series Finale): The final battle begins. This story is being uploaded without my consent to Archive of Our Own.
1. S1, E1: Trapped

**WARNING! This story will contain violent imagery, adult content, obscene language, drugs, moments engineered to fuel your nightmares, death, and mental illness. Do not be surprised if the most deprave acts you can imagine start showing up in this story. The characters in this story are based off those in Gravity Falls, but they are also a bunch of freaks and losers. Don't expect heroism (don't be surprised if heroin shows up either). You have been warned…**

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 **Episode 1: Trapped (in more ways than one)**

* * *

He stood on a hill and watched as the sky turned blood-red.

As the world met its end.

A giant smile of black and yellow eyes stretched across the sky. Those eyes had always been there, he knew. Lurking just behind the clouds and watching their every move. Their sideways eyelids were studded with teeth that gleamed with the light of the meteors which tore through the thinning atmosphere. Hands of monumental strength dived forth from the unblinking eyes and closed their ashen fingers around buildings. People crashed to the ground in heaps, their little black bodies charred with the unholy blue fire which would never be put out.

Ashes streamed into the air the blue and yellow fire razed the thick forest. The lake boiled from the heat which filled the air, causing the heads of the tortured survivors to explode, showering the pavement in gray matter. From the sky poured plasma coated brimstone, crushing houses, stores, and churches. The stench of sulfur wafted through the valley as time began to shred at the seams.

A sick smile crossed his mouth, and he realized, that he was not the victim of the Armageddon. Not someone displaced from normal life and a loving family. Not fodder for the elder gods. He was not a corpse to encourage the hero to save humanity, and definitely not the hero.

He is the god of this dying realm.

"DIPPER! Wake up sleepy head, WE'RE HERE!"

He opened his eyes, and the nightmare (or perhaps, he realizes grimly, horrifying power fantasy) slipped out of his grasp. He isn't the god of anything. He is fourteen-year-old Dipper Pines. He can't convince his parents not to send him on summer vacation to a two-bit tourist attraction in Middle of Nowhere, Oregon, let alone cause the downfall of mankind.

Not that he would _want_ to.

Looking around the back of his great-uncle's junkyard excuse of a car, he wondered why they packed so much. He knew that Mabel was bad at bringing the essentials, but this was ridiculous. Their baggage formed a mountain, and he considered himself lucky that the pile had not squashed him.

"Hey! You've haven't been sleeping for THAT long. C'mon, I want to see the shop that Stan told us so much about!"

Staring up at his glittery twin, Dipper smirked. "Oh, is that what he was rambling on about?"

Mabel giggled, and his heart jumped.

 _That wasn't right._ His mind immediately mentioned. He heard her giggle all the time and didn't react that way. He

He heard her giggle all the time and didn't react that way. He _shouldn't_ react that way. He definitely should not react to _anything_ she did in a way which mimicked his seventh-grade crush. Or any crush for that matter.

For a second she sensed his confusion and opened her mouth to ask that everything was alright.

Luckily, he beat her to the punch. "You go check it out, I'll get our bags."

She beamed, and gave him a light hug before rocketing off to no doubt be disappointed. "Thanks a million bro!"

He watched her go with a sinking feeling. "No prob…sis."

Something about her seemed strange, almost…wrong. Her enthusiasm was as per the norm, but her hair, her manner…both seemed refreshing. More so than usual. He should be used to her antics. But this time, her presence energized him.

They woke him up and got his blood pumping. It shouldn't be that way.

Her fuschia-pink sweater, with a star stitched crudely into the center of it, was one of her favorites (and she had an entire trunk full of hand-knit sweaters). Normally he might poke a little fun at her fashion sense (she would insult him and they would both laugh). But the sweater didn't look as flashy, her eagle earrings looked less tacky than usual. And her skirt…well, he didn't remember it being nearly that short when they first had clambered into Stan's rust bucket.

For a moment, he had the image of boys leering at her because of that skirt. His sister had never been pretty enough for others to treat her as "popular", but he couldn't remember the faces of half of the guys who tried to use his sister's naïvety and boy crazy nature to take advantage of her.

The hoarse voice of Stan Pines, his semi-deranged great-uncle, emitted from the hovel they had parked in front of. Dipper rolled his eyes, adjusted to the emotional abuse by now, thanks for the first hour of driving. "Hey, Dipstick! Grab the bags and get your bony ass in here! I want to introduce you and your sister to the folks who are gonna be your fellow employees for the rest of the summer."

Grabbing a few pieces of luggage, he kicked the door close and approached the strange house.

A massive sign, almost comparable to a billboard in size and obnoxiousness, stood to watch over the jutting out metal and wood which constructed the roof. The words "MYSTERY SHACK" stood in wooden block letters, each held into place by chains and rope as though they were attempting to escape their depressingly commercial existence. It cast a great shadow across the front of the house and made the various statues which cluttered at the summit of the stairs appear sinister in nature.

Animal skulls hung from strings, and ancient symbols which his great-uncle probably did not understand, had been painted all over the stairs. They mixed with the neon profanity which adorned the porch, like a lost alphabet. A golf cart which appeared to have gone through hell and back sagged beside a rotting totem pole on which red was the only remaining color. A dozen wind chimes, constructed mostly from broken glass and scrap metal, tinkled grotesquely against bleached bones as he pulled Mabel's pink wheelie luggage up the creaky stairs. It all gave him a sense tentative déjà vu, but also made him feel uneasy with how abnormal and unexpected it all was. A scarecrow, wearing a pumpkin as a head, cast a rotting glare at him as he heard Mabel introducing herself with double the enthusiasm as normal.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he tried to prepare himself for what horrors lay within, as he wrenched open a busted screen door and entered.

Mabel stood beside a plywood counter on which an ancient cash register, beaming at him. His great-uncle leaned on his cane beside her, his wrinkled face projected a level of distaste parallel with Mabel's cheer. "You certainly took your time…"

This was going to be one of THOSE summers, wasn't it? Why did his parents have to torment him by sending him to live with this ugly bastard for three whole goddamn months? Was this a sick joke? He could stand it if the miser didn't insist on humiliating him in front of his twin sister, at seemingly every opportunity. He had only known the old man a day, but already he hated him.

He acted and looked like a shriveled up version of the sadists who bullied him back home in Piedmont. Stan seemed to catch this train of thought and looked ready to smack him over the head with his cane.

With that thought, Dipper felt the urge to do something violent to the peering old man, and the horribly ventilated room did nothing to settle that reaction. Tribal masks decorated the walls, each daring him to surrender to ancestral rage and perform a primal duel with the old man. They bored into his tired conscious with their eyeless sockets, reminding the teen of skulls. The odors of refuse mixed intolerably in the stuffy air, originating from nowhere he place he could easily locate.

Mabel cast a desperate look his way, and his frustration slid loose of his form. One pleading look from her was usually enough to melt whatever emotional state he was in. Why he got so angry in the first place buzzed about. He had never been violent. He had always "taken it like a man" and ignored his harassers. They eventually grew tired of getting and left him be.

Except that one time in fourth grade, but he tried not to think about that.

"Sorry for being late Great-Uncle Ford."

Stan took this peace treaty with a nod of the barest approval. "Since you two will be working for your meals, I figured you ought to meet the people you'll be working beside."

He snapped his fingers and yelled "CORDUROY!" loud enough to force winces from his niece and nephew. They were both astonished when a willow of a girl with ratty red hair, stood up from behind the counter. A bong, appearing to have first been brought into use in the 1980's, was clutched in hand. Leaves clung to her faded plaid shirt, just as they did to her tangled locks. She must have been older than him, but Dipper couldn't help but be transfixed by her glorious emerald eyes. They drifted lazily around the room, as though the world were of little to no consequence to her. Freckles stood out on the girl's thin cheekbones, her head bobbing up and down in a lethargic manner, atop a form so lanky that Dipper questioned how it supported her head.

Stan pinched his brow at the pothead's antics and rapped lightly on the counter with his cane. "Introduce yourself Corduroy…"

In response, the cashier girl straightened her name tag, and Dipper's eyes locked onto the poorly scribbled name before they becoming embarrassingly interested in her sizeable breasts. He moved his gaze to the floor with red cheeks when she noticed his gaze and winked at him. The ginger laughed, and stretched a hand out in Mabel's direction before Stan could embarrass him with instruction not to hit on his fellow employees.

"Wendy. And who might you be…?"

Mabel leaped at the chance to introduce herself, first impressions being her forte. She shook the ginger hand ecstatically, and Wendy absorbed her fast talking introduction with unparalleled patience.

"Well aren't you just a ball of sunshine..." Wendy observed after Mabel finished her two-minute long introduction.

Mabel blushed under the praise, and Stan rolled his eyes.

Wendy turned her attention to Dipper and raised an eyebrow. "Who's Mr. Short and Sturdy?" Dipper's cheeks turned red again, and Wendy burst out laughing.

She punched his arm and grinned when he rubbed it and shied away, "I'm just kiddin' with ya'…almost everyone is short compared to me!" Dipper didn't feel the compulsion to argue. "C'mon over here and I'll get a better look at you."

Not feeling terribly enthusiastic, but also finding any chance to get closer to the beautiful girl riveting, Dipper did as requested. She certainly wasn't beautiful in the classical sense of the word, but Dipper's preferences and views weren't classical in the sense of anything. He knew that she would never stoop (socially or physically) for him, but saw no harm in a little daydreaming.

 _Better than boiling rivers and burning skies, that's for sure._ He told himself.

He approached as one would an incredibly well-crafted tiger stature, unsure if it would come alive at any moment and claw your eyes out. The incredibly high girl giggled at his caution. She grabbed his collar the moment Dipper came within arm's distance (which turned out to be quite long for someone with as apish arms as her). The older teen pawed at his orange tee, causing him to grow statue-still.

She ran a hand across the brim of his cap. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable under Mabel's grinning gaze and the cashier girl's inspection, Dipper let the first thing which comes to mind slip out. "You…you aren't old enough to smoke pot, are you?"

She broke into hysterics, and he regretted letting the words ever leave his mouth.

Wendy's reply his mental self-flagellation. "No way silly...nothing is fun if you do it when it's legal!"

"Ah."

"I'm 17."

At the very least, this confirmed that the girl was not an adult, and it wasn't as weird as it could have been that he liked her. Wendy giggled to herself and leaned down to eye level. Dipper felt like he was sweating bullets when she pushed up his hair and traced his birthmark with a slender finger. Had her chest not been in practically eye level, he might have taken note of the fact that her arms were double jointed.

This would not have turned Dipper off his newfound crush, however. Obsessed with the abnormal since receiving a Ripley's Believe It or Not book for Christmas as a six-year-old, Dipper would have stared in fascination rather than been disgusted. He had dreamed of meeting someone with a medical oddity, similar to his own, for years.

He still had the leather-back notepad which his father had given him to write his own observations of the supernatural in. It was tucked under a couple of layers of half folded pants, in his carry-on.

Wendy's eyes lit up and air exited his lungs with the knowledge that she was not going to mock him for his birthmark. "Dude, that is awesome!" A relaxed smile crossed his features, but she put him on guard with her own conversation.

"How old are you again?" She asked upon glancing down at his head, which happened to be at chest height for her.

Dipper had the instinctive urge to lie but instead told the truth in a red-faced squeak, "Umm, Mabel and I are twins so…"

The ginger giggled and slapped her forehead, "Right. DUUUUH! Heh-heh, stupid Wendy!"

"I don't think you're stupid." It slipped out before he could think twice. I like the way that you think kid…you're going to make this summer interesting."

Stan gave him a dubious look and Mabel covered her teeth. Wendy had the most interesting reaction. She grinned, squeezing his shoulder and staring into his eyes with her own whacked-out ones. "Aww, you're so sweet. I like the way that you think kid…you're going to make this summer interesting."

Dipper nodded, backing away as the girl nearly pissed herself with laughter. The strange mix of fear and infatuation with the bizarre girl ceased when he backed into Stan. It felt like accidentally colliding with a brick wall.

The old man addressed the twins with a warning eye and a gravelly voice, "Neither of you accept any drugs from her…I'm not sending you kids back with one or both of you druggies. Your parents would _kill_ me."

Dipper rolled his eyes, whereas Mabel examined her shoes with a look of slight disappointment.

"Now that we have that over with, handyman…" Stan gestured to follow as he moved into the next room, Mabel eagerly skipping after him.

Dipper cast one last look at the still giggling Wendy, before dragging the luggage into the hall. After leading them through two rooms stuffed with oddities, their great-uncle opened a large black door labeled "HOUSE."

Leaning towards Mabel, Dipper whispered in her ear. "Are we going to go through this door and find out that everything he owns is labeled?"

She tried, and failed, to hide her laughter and hushed her grinning twin. _She looks so pretty when she's laughing._

Before he had time to scold himself, Dipper received a scowl from his uncle. Sick of their lollygagging, Stan tapped a single shoe against the wood boards until the silence was achieved. Appropriately convinced, he removed a key from inside his suit and jammed it into the knob.

The door creaked open, producing a noise which would have belonged in a cheesy horror movie.

It led into a dimly lit kitchen, with somehow even worse ventilation. A yellow bulb illuminated the rusting stove, which leaned against the water damaged wall. A tiny refrigerator lay stuffed beside a beaten up washing machine. Heaps of dirty clothes lay strew about on the filthy tile floor, and Mabel held her nose with disgust, keeping a hand on her body in an attempt to avoid touching anything.

Dipper felt the splintery boards of the room creak beneath his feet and watched as Stan opened the small door and yelled down a flight of stairs into the boiler room. "HEY FIDS, I GOT SOMEONE I WANT YA' TO MEET!"

A clatter emitted from the stairs and was followed by the scampering of feet. An old man reaching the top of the stairs, his whole form heaving with perspiration. Overalls stained with god knows what clung to his oil-slick stained form and he approached in boots which were falling apart at the seams. His scruff of a beard hung over the bandages which circled the left side of his exposed chest. He looked almost as lean as Wendy, but his form of thinness seemed to be a result of starvation, rather than his body type. The old man's exposed shoulders jutted up against the taut skin peppered with burns and abrasions. His weary blue eyes stared absently at Stan, as though Dipper and Mabel did not exist.

"This is Fiddleford McGucket, he repairs everything around here. Fids, introduce yourself…" Dipper noticed that the curmudgeon showed a hint of sympathy for McGucket, which granted him a glimpse of a less hellish summer.

But his attention was soon grabbed when McGucket removed a glove with his mouth and stabbed a bony hand in his direction.

"Nice t-t-t-to m-meetcha... Or h-he-h-ha-have we…" He hesitated, and Dipper shook his hand for fear of that the nervous old man might faint otherwise.

A strange paleness seemed to cloud his irises, almost milky but not quite. In conjunction with his skinny form and collection of scars, it made him look more like some bizarre gremlin than an old man.

Mabel noticed his shyness and took his hand the moment he removed it from Dipper's grasp. "My name is Mabel! Nice to meet you too Mr. McGucket!"

He nodded slowly, and a smile flickered across his features. "You too…you remind me of my son…Tate…He uh, he umm…how old is he a-a-again S-St-Sta-Stanford?"

His eyes flickered towards the younger man for guidance, and Stan put a hand on his shoulder with a sad look.

Then he turned him towards the staircase as he half whispered his tired response, "He's 22 Fids,"

The handyman nodded as he began to descend the stairs, an atrocious sadness seeming to come over him all at once. "Oh right…he's all grown up…d-d-doesn't need his pa…I uh,"

He looked back up at them, and for a moment, Dipper felt a spike of paranoia run through him. His head told him that he shouldn't worry about anything other than this strange man hurting himself with power tools. But the rest of him was insistent that McGucket could tell what he was thinking. That the old man stood, peering straight through him. Eyes narrowing, inspecting Dipper's thoughts, emotions, ambitions, and the nightmare which had afflicted him not twelve minutes ago. He turned away with a tragic shake of his head, clearly troubled by what he saw.

"I'd best be gettin' back to work." McGucket turned back to the boiler and descended the staircase at a slow and cautious pace.

Stan eased the boiler room door closed and gave the twins another threatening look. "I don't want you to spending too much time with him. He uh, he can have violent spells just as much as sad ones…"

Mabel raised a hand, and Dipper almost laughed at the childish action.

Stan did not find it amusing but gave Mabel the go ahead. "Umm, should he be working with power tools? I mean, if he has mental problems than shouldn't he get like, help for that? He seems old enough to retire and-"

"He's not senile." Mabel closed her mouth at the venom in Stan's voice and nearly shrunk behind her brother.

Sighing, Stan moved into the next room as he spoke. "McGucket functions well when his mind is focused on work…he had a nasty accident with his wife a few years ago, and since then he hasn't been the same. BUT,"

He swiveled towards them as they came to a halt in front of a moldy armchair. "He isn't crazy. He just has...jumbled memories…amnesia...whatever the quacks call it. So both of you need to stay away from him, or else you're gonna just... _confuse him_."

"But why would that be so? He's never met us before."

Stan glared daggers at Dipper for pointing out the obvious and hobbled over to the armchair.

Pointing a scabby finger at the couch, he addressed them like a disgruntled dog owner, "Sit."

Wondering if Stan was going to ask them to roll over next, Dipper sat down beside his sister. They had to squeeze up against each other, and Dipper became keenly aware that his sister's bare thigh was pressed against his own. He could feel her every breath, he could smell her perfume, and he could feel her hand brushing against his. He ordered himself to get a grip, as the swindler removed a small slip of paper.

"Welcome nieces/nephews, I hope you enjoy your stay in my hometown…Gravity Falls. That said, there are a few rules which I must insist you abide." Dipper recalled the dilapidated wooden sign which they had crossed on their way here and the words which some lunatic had taken the time to carve into the welcome sign. The alteration, "DEPravity Falls" seemed to fit the crumbling town more than the cutesy original name.

"And most important…you will not, under ANY circumstances, enter my basement. Doing so will be a one-way ticket to the a-I mean back to your parents."

Dipper raised an eyebrow, finally interested. "Why? Are you hiding something?"

Mabel sniggered at his comical tone, but Stan remained stone-faced until all humor had drained from their faces.

"I keep my guns down there smartass, and the last kid who went down there happened to have butter fingers. He accidentally blew his brains out. Took me a week to get the stuff out of the carpet. I will not be subject to another lawsuit. Stay. Out. Of. The fucking basement."

Turning away, he jerked a thumb in the direction of the staircase. "The room for you two is the last door on the left. You two can start earning your keep by clearing out the attic once you unload your junk from my car."

Mabel stood up as Dipper processed the fact that he was going to share a room with his teenage sister. Things just kept getting worse and worse.

Sensing his pessimism, Mabel tried to give him a smile. "C'mon bro, it won't be that bad. We can play cluttered room mini-golf!"

Dipper summoned his own smile, one which, as always, failed to meet hers but was enough that her moment of worry would end. "Okay, you're right. We're gonna be fine."

"As long as we stay away from the basement…otherwise, Stan will blow us away."

Mabel giggled, but the anxiousness in her voice forced her brother to realize that the jest wasn't particularly far from the reality or the assumed punishment.

 **[0]**

The room turned out to be smaller than Dipper imagined, and the only thing which kept him from feeling claustrophobic was the triangular window which allowed sunlight inside.

While Mabel unpacked and began "beautifying" the room, Dipper started in the attic. If the house was eccentrically planned, then the attic was beyond abnormal. Half finished statues and moldy cloth mannequins formed a procession, the latter of which, clung to wireframes and slumped like meat on a hook. Dust bound tomes, each the size of his head,had been stacked, creating a sea of precarious towers. Chests filled with glass sculpture (most of it broken), formed an impasse in one direction, a dozen empty cans of paint a wall in the other. Soon he had filled a trash bag with the useless junk and was climbing the stairs with the bag over his shoulder. Mabel gave him a thumbs up as he passed their room, and he tried to smile despite the strain of the bag.

Moving through the kitchen in as quietly as he could, so as not to attract the attention of McGucket, Dipper opened the black door and stepped into The Shack.

"Hey, Stan! Where should I put this?" The old man turned away from the crowd and gave him a "do not bother me right now moment" look.

"The dumpster is behind the house, you moron." Stan removed a rusty key from a pocket within his suit, as he had done once before, and flung it towards the teen.

Dipper fumbled with the key, having only one free hand. Stan smirked and the crowd giggled at his nephew's expense, and Dipper's grip tightened around the garbage bag. For a moment, he considered flinging it at the old man. Instead, he turned around and marched back into the kitchen. He mumbled a variety of threats as he kicked open the back door, and marched into the blazing dusk heat.

The redness of the sky reminded him of his apocalyptic dream, and he felt a chill run down his spine as the setting sun came into his peripheral vision. It's light filtered through the stretch of the earth which crossed the valley and towered above the town. Shaking himself, he turned towards the massive brown compactor. Setting down the bag on the sandy ground, he noticed the rusty hatchet lying beside it as he unlocked the dumpster. The vivid image of him slaughtering the tour with that ax came and went through his mind without much deliberation. _What is wrong with me?_ This town was not doing good things to him. First, he had developed violent fantasies, then he had started finding his own sister attractive.

The feeling of insanity closing in, like a lion stalking prey through tall grass, became almost suffocating. He didn't even notice that his hands were shaking until he had reached the dumpster. Opening the mighty bucket, Dipper promised himself that once he was done doing chores, he would take a moment to relax and maybe take a walk in the woods.

Then a blood red book cover caught his attention.

A book, with brass edges and a heavily stained cover, peeked out from beneath a trash bag. The stench of the dumpster was vomit inducing, but he stuck a hand in regardless. Slipping his fingers into the bag which lay on the mysterious book, he avoided the colony of maggots and gripped the cover. It was torn, he could feel that in the texture of the cover. Grunting, he yanked the object of interest-free. Wiping it off, he turned it over and stared at the golden hand in the center of the book. It must have been actual gold-leaf, for how it reflected in the sun and almost gave his reflection.

The number 3 sat in the center of that six fingered palm, marring Dipper's reflection. He gulped, and almost dropped it for the shivers which drifted down his body. The teen stuffed it under one arm before heaving the trash bag into the dumpster and slamming it close.

He sprinted into the woods, intent on finding somewhere with shade before opening the book. His heart began to pound as he felt energy racing out of the book and coursing through him.

Finally, when his heart felt ready to burst with this new energy, he plopped down beside an over cropping rock. Leaning against the soft lichen covering it, he flipped open the book and nearly screamed at the image which met him. He stared at the sketch in fascination, drawing a finger down the sharp angles which it was constructed with.

A rotting face, eyes long since dribbled out of the sockets, had been drawn by shaky hands. On the page beside it, was a creature with no eyes, nose, or ears, but a massive mouth. The monster stood on two feet and boasted four arms each ending in thick hooks of bone. Mouths with reptilian eyes were sketched out, with gnashing teeth scattered across the head. The face had been written sideways, mailing it even more unnatural, and the strangest thing of all was that no matter what direction he moved, those eyes seemed to follow him. He turned the page, beginning to wonder if opening the book was a mistake. As he did, a note slipped loose and landed upon his shorts. Picking it up, he read it in the descending sunlight.

"Whoever you are, you must hide this journal from others…"

He squinted and continued reading in the dimness of the afternoon, "I have spent the last few years accumulating information about the supernatural powers which rule this valley, and I filled this book with that information. Should it fall into the wrong hands, the consequences could be...cataclysmic? This is _not_ a joke, and I am not insane." Dipper considered closing the book right then. His curiosity got the best of him. "You must protect this book with your life...or doom humanity. I have encrypted most of the data, but whoever finds this, you are now a guardian of something which MUST stay a secret. I beg of you, DO NOT show this book to ANYONE. My enemies have connections everywhere, anyone could be an operative. Remember; Trust no one, especially not yourself."

The moment he reached the end of the note, cawing in the distance. As he looked up, he felt static course from the tome into his fingertips. Yelping, he dropped the book and rubbed his tingling fingertips against his shirt as the book fell to a page depicting a bloody maw rising out of the water.

Glancing about, he found that the sun had dipped out of sight all of a sudden and that fog had rolled in off the mountain and steadily crawled across the valley. The distant crowing grew louder, and the wind began to propagate creaking and moaning from amidst the trees. The boiling heat of the day had turned to a light chill, but his shivers were not a result of the temperature. Instead, the eerie feeling of being watched refused to leave him. Glancing down at the book, he stuffed the note into his pocket. Slowly, he ran a hand across the bloodstain which lay beside a strange pentagram.

"What are you doing out here?"

Jumping to his feet, Dipper snapped the book closed and held it behind his back as he looked up. Mabel stared down at him from atop the rock, her feet dangling as she grinned. When she noticed that he was hiding something, her right eyebrow raised in interest. For some reason, her voice had sounded deeper and more demanding when Dipper first heard it, but he chalked this reaction to his bout of paranoia.

"Oh just…reading, one of my books."

The lie felt too natural, like the image of him going ax-wielding-psycho on the tour had. But whatever he had just found, be it merely the scribblings of a madman or the real deal, he did not want his twin anywhere near it.

Mabel knew him too well, however.

She hopped down beside him, before trying to poke her hand around his side to grab the book, "C'mon broseph, what did you fi-"

Dipper swatted aside her hand, almost snarling his protest. She looked at him like he had admitted to killing a kitten, and he pushed himself to his feet. Turning away, he leaned on the redwood for a moment and caught his breath as she stumbled for words.

"Dipper…what's going on?"

He detected so much worry in her voice, that it nearly broke his resolve. But his face tightened, and his fingers closed around the book. _She could not know, he had a duty not to tell her._ Slipping it under his arm, he tried to put distance between him and her without looking like he was running.

His hair fell over his face, giving him a steelier disposition as he replied, "NOTHING. Just please… _drop it_ , Mabel."

Confusion and hurt struck her, but he turned away, eyes focused on the ground. He refused to make eye contact, for fear that he would break under that pathetic gaze of hers. Resisting her would be useless the moment he looked at those big, brown eyes and those big, pouting lips. Instead, he kept moving forward, clutching the book to his chest so tightly that it dug into his ribs. He ran a hand down the back of his neck, scratching as though attempting to escape his own skin. His grip on the journal tightened when he sensed Mabel's shuffling footsteps. He increased his speed.

She could not see this, bad things would happen if she did. He _knew_ that bad things would happen. Dipper had never followed his instinct before, but everything inside of him insisted that this was the correct course of action. Whatever this was, Mabel didn't deserve to be anywhere near it. His mind conjured the results, and he wanted none of them to become a reality. So he moved at a pace somewhere between a distressed jog and a leisurely stroll, eventually breaking the façade and tearing into a full blown sprint.

He slammed the screen door close behind him and not once looked back.

 **[0]**

Dipper sat in the attic of The Shack, his uncle running a tour below. Occasionally the old man's loud showmanship distracted him, but the book was too intriguing for him to spend more than few moments being irritated. Already his notebook was filled with codes which the encrypted information might be in.

Everything that wasn't in a code had been written hastily in chicken scratch, with no time for proper punctuation or capitalization. There were a couple entries which looked like they had been written in Japanese while there were others which could swear had been written backward. One note had been written in such thin, scarlet letters, that Dipper could swear it was written in blood.

Since growing infatuated with the supernatural, he had as well studied various secret languages and ciphers. So he could tell by one look that some messages had been written in one code while others had been written in a different code. The author had gone to obsessive lengths to keep the book hard to understand.

Eyes, hands, triangles, and X's were doodled about, as though the book had been at some point been in the possession of a morbid three-year-old. They reappeared over and over again, popping up beside a note or marking faded background on which a monster or object was drawn. Someone seemed to have gone through with an eraser and attempted to remove not just the symbols but also many of the messages, so he knew them to serve some importance. But never once did the scribblings or the code make reference to them.

Some of the notes conflicted with others and some were so faded that they almost disappeared into the crisp page. The entire book was written upon parchment, so old and thin that his penlight gave allusion to the words on the next page whenever he shined it down upon the journal. There appeared to be multiple handwriting in the book, one of which looked startlingly very familiar while another looked overtly foreign in nature and diction. Notes were written lengthwise, diagonally, and occasionally upside-down, and they grew so frustrating in their total lack of consistency (in both format and discussion topic), that Dipper almost snapped the journal closed and returned to his room for a good night's rest multiple times.

Almost.

After an eternity, the trap door to the attic opened and reawakened him to the real world. Someone had finally interrupted his inspection. As the hall light pierced his chamber of darkness, he shielded his eyes and back glanced down at the book. He was only on the fourth page.

As the sting of obsolescence began to set in, a sigh at his refusal to acknowledge the open trapdoor reached his fuzzy mind.

"Dipper…" The sound of Mabel's voice, not the call of his own name, got his attention and he looked to find his twin peeking her head through the trapdoor. "Dipper…you, you didn't have any dinner…" She held up a plate, and he looked away from the book with visible reluctance.

Taking the plate from her, he thanked her and promised that he would be down to their room in a couple hours.

"Dipper!"

He stopped halfway back to the attic windowsill. "Yes, Mabel?"

She blushed at the outburst and rubbed her hands together, "Dipper I know…that you want your personal space, but…why are you hiding that book from me?"

Sighing, he adjusted his beaten cap. "Mabel, it's just not the kinda thing you would be interested in."

She crossed her arms, "And I suppose you would know!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, "Mabes, can you please just-"

"No! I am not going to let this go! I don't hide anything from you, I don't think it's very fair that you get to hide something from me!"

Dipper turned away, "There are some things that I'm sure you wouldn't want me to know about, why can't you-"

"Is it porn?"

He spun back towards to her with gritted teeth, and most of his dinner spilled across the creaky boards at the sudden movement. He didn't care.

Dipper could feel his blood begin to boil at her blank-faced reaction. _Why did she have to be so annoying? Why couldn't she just do as he asked?_

"NO! Why would you even think-"

"Well until you tell me the truth, I'm going to assume that it is." She folded her arms and turned away.

That same intolerable itch began to creep up his skin, and his mind informed him as to how easy it would be to just grab the book and launch it at her. Maybe getting a couple bruises or a broken nose would shut her up. Maybe she would stop asking so many goddamn questions if he showed her how dangerous this could be. Taking a deep breath, he tried to banish the violent thoughts (he didn't dare consider them fantasies).

 _He was doing this to protect her. Let her win. Let her think what she would, and then maybe she would leave him alone._

"FINE. Think whatever you want…" He turned towards The Journal, "It doesn't matter anyway."

She watched him reach the windowsill, before letting the words out. "You can't treat me like a little kid Dipper."

He turned towards her with a spiteful grin, "Oh REALLY? I didn't notice…maybe it was hard to tell because you act like a spoiled brat all the time!"

He could tell that the insult stung, by the way that she struggled for a comeback.

"Yeah well…at least, I have a boyfriend! You couldn't get a date if the girl was stupid drunk, or high like the cashier girl that you have the hots for!"

Dipper told himself that her rebuttal was pathetic, but felt a twinge of self-loathing as she spoke what he knew to be the truth. He refused to discuss his love life, however, keeping totally silent and hoping that his twin would leave it at that. Unfortunately for them, both, she did not.

Mabel took it one step further, as she always did. She wanted to make him feel the way he had just made her. She didn't understand that the two of them had very different limitations for psychological abuse and that she was about to step over a line. It was made worse by the fact that the two of them had always relied on one another, an insult from her was far worse than anything his many tormentors could have created if given years of planning.

"You might as well tell her right now since you're going to be jerking off all summer anyway! Do you know why? Because you'd rather be miserable than face your problems! And do you know who always has to cheer you up, to make you actually care about yourself and not die of sleep deprivation? ME. I ALWAYS have to do it, because you don't have any friends who you can lean on. I love you Dipper, but you only make this worse for yourself and it kills me to see you wasting away like this! You're supposed to be the smart one, but sometimes you can act REALLY stupid."

It stung horribly.

He had always been the introverted one, hell, he hadn't received a single Valentine from people someone besides his sister for the majority of his life. He didn't have a gaggle of friends like her either. He didn't need them either. All those people, focused on the stupid stuff which came out of his mouth? All those people who just distracted him from work? No, thank you.

All he needed his books, his Sasquatch, his lake monsters, his moth-men. He had never bothered her and her friends, he had never insisted that she share whatever piece of gossip they were discussing at the moment. He was fine being the only person at one table in the lunch room.

He went to parties when she wanted him to, he was always polite to her friends. He never divulged knowledge of the various unsavory behavior which they all indulged in. The stealing. The cheating. The smoking. He didn't say a word. He only knew all that because they acted like he didn't exist, one of them, he was quite sure, believed him to be autistic.

For every one of her crummy events, and for every one of her crappy friends, he put a smile on. When he needed to stay up late to finish his mountain of homework, and she asked him to come shopping with her, he conceded. Because he loved his sister. Because that was the deal.

He spent as much time as possible with her, and all she had to do in return was LEAVE HIM ALONE when he asked of it. But that didn't matter to her. All that mattered to her was to throw cheap insults at him, because she couldn't get her way and when she didn't get her way, then the problem must be someone else. "I love you Dipper", he wanted to vomit. She was a keen manipulator but he refused to be roped into giving his sister what she wanted.

Did he pitch a fit when she received all she wanted for her birthday, and he did not? NO. Did he try to guilt trip her into telling her everything she knew? Of course not, because he wasn't a _fucking psychopath._

Something deep within him snapped, and as the words began to fall free, his mind goaded him on. _The more you make her hate you, the more she'll leave you alone_ , it said in a silky voice.

Dipper couldn't help but agree. _Fine, she asked for it._

"Oh, you have to take care… _of me?_ I guess I am the stupid one because my memory says otherwise. I'm pretty sure my whole life, I've been taking care of YOU. BUT FORGIVE ME IF I'M WRONG." Her face scrunched up as he continued, cavorting about the attic and speaking in a voice which oozed with contempt. "I'm sorry I'm not always prancing around like pixie and walking on tiptoe to make everybody happy! I'm not that kind of person. You think I like the way I am? Guess what? NO. I don't enjoy the fact that everyone hates my guts! I don't relish being attracted to a girl who'll never give me the time. I'm sorry, I give a damn about you!"

"Dipper, I-"

"I'm sorry I give a damn about you! All those years I tried to shelter you, well stupid me for thinking that _you_ , might actually be GRATEFUL!" He swung his arms about, possessed with simmering rage, his eyes rolling over the attic as he sneered. "Fuck me for actually expecting that you wouldn't backstab me like the spoiled little princess that you are! I'm sorry that I can't fall in love with the first person I meet in a two-bit town. I have to jerk off because I don't have tits that I can flash at the FIRST MORON I meet in the town _like a_ _whore_!"

This time, she was completely silent, unable to even move her mouth. A sick grin tugged at his lips. He knew it was sick because he drew pleasure, not just from the silence resulting from her shock, but also from the look on her face. The knowledge that finally she would finally cease asking stupid questions and just _leave him alone_ , made him giddy.

His twin's eyes turned red, and the grin vanished. The whisper in his mind had disappeared, the rage had faded. His fists unclenched and fell to his sides. _Now you've fucked up._

"Mabel…I-"

Her glare forced him to silence. He had said enough, there wasn't any point in speaking. Dipper slumped forward, his drawing a hand across his face in preparation to become her emotional chew toy. _I deserve it. Why did I open my big mouth? Why do I ruin everything?_ He tensed for the insults, the screaming, the picking apart of his immaturity one word at a time, letting him stew in his own self-loathing before slamming the door (trapdoor in this case).

But she was silent.

He removed his hand, raising his head to stare at her. Mabel's lips twisted in hate. The emotion looked unnatural and ugly upon her, her eyes cutting through him. He was worthless now, his Mabel was staring at him like he was worthless, and this he knew made it valid. If he could truly drive the people he loved to despise him, then he was unworthy of their affection.

She spat out the first two words which came to mind. "Fuck you."

And with that, she had slammed the trapdoor close and left him alone with his flashlight, spilled dinner, and obsession-inducing journal. Dipper wanted to feel angry at her, at himself, even at his parents for sending him and his twin here. But he had never heard Mabel curse before, up until this point he had believed she didn't even know that word. The very idea of being the thing that made her angry and hurt enough to be profane, it felt like a tapeworm eating away at him. The emptiness just grew the more he thought about it, not so much guilt as it was despair. He turned back to his book, dropping the cold dinner plate beside it and glaring down the sketching of a two-headed cyclops.

He awoke the next morning, curled up in the attic windowsill, the journal lying in his lap. He had only reached page 20.

 **[0]**

Entering the kitchen, he avoided eye contact with Mabel as he fetched milk and cereal. Stan read the newspaper, something about wild animals, as Dipper took his bowl out onto the porch to avoid the stuffiness. Wendy hadn't arrived yet, for which he found himself thankful.

Had she been available, he probably would have ended up breaking Stan's rule by asking for some weed.

Sitting down on a decaying rocking chair, with the words "HAUNTED" painted across the front, he slowly adjusted to the waking world. Last night was a blur of information, and he didn't feel like uncluttering any of it right now. Staring at the gray sky, he watched the morning fog settle in upon the world below and hide all its secrets away. The emptiness of last night returned with a vengeance.

He HAD to apologize. But if she would not accept his apology if he didn't show her The Journal. His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl lazily, and he looked down to find it empty. Removing his notebook, he scribbled down a note to remind himself to check about time slips and déjà vu in The Journal. He didn't know completely whether to trust it the book or not, but it seemed to have too much detail to be a fake. Perhaps it was an exaggeration, but he knew that there were too many Cthulu-esque drawings, creepy descriptions, and blood stains for it to not have been created seriously.

"Mourning good sir! Might Mabel Pines be located here?"

Looking up from his pad, Dipper set down his bowl and moved to the top of the stairs. Staring up at him was a teenager, maybe two or three years his senior, wearing a gold suit with vertical pink stripes. He wore a disfiguring level of makeup, his eyes almost disappearing into his skull thanks to the eyeliner which encapsulated it while his lips leaked blood red lipstick.

He looked like a more deranged version of what Dipper had when Mabel and her friends had ambushed him and covered his face in every source of make-up they could find.

Each green iris narrowed in on Dipper, as the stranger read his thoughts. His gloves tightened around a small ivory walking stick, each finger as thin as a spider's leg. A spike of fear drove through Dipper, as the image of the older teen smashing his skull in with impeccable precision arose.

He cleared his throat. "Who wants to know?"

The obviously rich teen smiled a crooked smile, revealing a housing of wolves' teeth. Dipper took note of the scarred lip which the stranger ran a thin tongue across in

"Norman Fairs, from just across the river. My family owns a mansion there. Your uncle and I are neighbors."

Dipper shivered and decided to put his vest on when he got back to his room. "Umm, how did you-"

"Mabel informed me yesterday. Would you be a good chap and fetch her for me?" The person adjusted his tie, not giving Dipper a moment of his precious attention. "Were it not for the fact that Mr. Pines detests me, I would enter myself and retrieve her…"

Dipper was surprised to find that he and Stan had one thing in common. They both despised this idiot.

He nodded nonetheless and entered The Shack. "Mabel…you're uh, your boyfriend is here."

Mabel shot up from her seat, and nearly knocking her twin over in her passing. Dipper followed her back out and picked up his bowl as he watched his sister flirt with the rich boy _._ Norman looked ready to bite into her, those black-green eyes sweeping over her as she told him about her dream. He nodded robotically, not listening to a word.

 _Don't say anything, just keep your stupid mouth shut until they're done,_ he told himself. He had no intention of making the situation between him and Mabel worse. The strange unease while in eyeshot of Norman didn't help either. Still, he lingered at the door and watched with growing dread as she descended the stairs and he wrapped an arm around her.

 _That son of a-_ Dipper stopped himself, realizing that his nails had begun to claw into his palm.

He had always been protective of Mabel, but that solicitousness had somehow turned into paranoia and loathing towards anyone who touched his twin. The two of them strolled towards forest path, Mabel giggling at every other thing he said, and only once glancing behind at her twin. He could see in her eyes, she knew how much he didn't like this guy. She knew that it was killing him to see her like this.

So, like a true sadist, she turned towards the over-dressed teen and pressed her lips against his. Norman obliged, wrapping his spiderlike fingers about her hips, and lowering them to-

Dipper turned away, disgusted by his sibling for doing such a thing just to piss him off, and himself for caring so much. He practically tore the screen door open and marched past the indignant Stan to the retreat of his room.

Slamming the door close, he found that Mabel had folded all of his clothes, and put them in the cupboard. His oddments lay beside his books, all arranged perfectly. _Why does she have to be so fucking perfect?_

Roaring at how quickly he could go from despising and loving her, he tore open the windows to get fresh air into the stuffy room. It smelled too much like her. He stared out at the pane glass, realizing that Mabel had neither made her bed nor put away her clothes.

She was always the neater of the two. For her to abandon that forced him to consider that his rant may have had a greater impact upon her than expected.

Pink, purple, and neon blue rags lay about in piles. He spotted her panties lying beside her pillow, their little maroon hearts staring up at him. He turned away with red cheeks. A strange buzz coursed through him as he looked through her clothes and inhaled their scent.

 _Oh, my god, I need therapy. Or drugs, whichever will keep me from being aroused by my sister._

He exited the room, guilt-ridden at just being close to her possessions. Meandering down the halls, he felt inhabited by a restless spirit. He didn't know where to go, only places which he shouldn't go, and any second now Stan would put him to work. For a second, he considered descending the basement stairs, but he was a tad too intimidated by Stan to do such a thing. He didn't feel like holing himself up in the attic, as it was stuffier and his eyes ached from reading.

Then it occurred to him that The Journal was up in the attic, lying out where anyone could see it.

Rushing down the hall, he found the ladder had already been extended down. Someone was up there. With _his_ book.

Gulping, he tore up the ladder, and instantly located the blood red book. Even in barely any light, the golden hand shined. The tome was gripped by two skinny, elderly hands. McGucket towards him, adjusting his spectacles.

"Mr. McGucket, I would very much like my book back." It came out harsher than intended, mostly because of how shitty he was feeling.

The old man looked back down at the thing and sniffed lightly. "This old p-p-piece of junk…?"

Dipper felt offended by the terminology but nodded anyway.

 _At least, he hasn't looked inside._

"You know…most kid's your age don't like to read…they find i-i-it...b-b-b-b-boring…there always on their computers and th-their phones…a-and…and…and f-f-f-forgetting things. That's right…yeah, all th-tho-those s-scr-screens make your m-my m-memory get w-w-worse…at least, that's what s-six-s-sick-six-scientists have learned."

The man didn't address him as he shared this useless piece of information. Instead, staring out the attic window. His wrinkled brow furrowed in an avalanche of skin.

Coughing to get his attention, he extended a hand towards the mechanic. "Can I please have it back?"

The old man looked at his hand and smiled. "I-I-I-I remember when kids used to have f-f-f-four f-f-f-fingers…"

Observing his movements with growing discomfort, Dipper reached forward and found the man's fingers flinch and slip away to avoid contact. Flipping through the pages, Dipper found a dog ear on a page that he had not reached yet. Shutting it close quickly, he watched as McGucket turned away, pressing his fingers to the triangular window.

He was about to question why the old man had come up here to begin with but decided that it wasn't a good idea. "Well thank you, Sir."

The mechanic rubbernecked towards Dipper, "S-s-shame about your sister." "Wha-what…do you mean?"

The man closed his mouth as though he had said too much, and when opened it back up when Dipper stepped closer. "I don't…I need to get back to work…I need to, I mean…I don't need work I need to get back to work."

Dipper extended an arm to prevent him from descending the staircase. "No. Tell me what you meant."

The old man shrugged lightly, "I just…I was up here, and f-f-from the window, I-I saw her ki-k-kill-k-kissing and being sinful with that young fella. Sh-shame th-that she should fall for s-s-someone outta town."

Dipper's arm dropped to his side, "What do you mean? He lives in a mansion across the river…"

The old man coughed harshly and brushed past Dipper without another word. Stalking over to the windowsill, Dipper looked at the spot of gray which peeked out of the sea of trees. It was the rotting roof of the Fair Mansion, as expansive as it was decrepit. He had to question why anyone would build a house so far away from the town, and why he hadn't noticed it earlier. Why as well, would a rich family allow their house to fall into such disrepair? Grabbing a vest from his room, he decided it was time to find out just who "Norman Fair" was.

 **[0]**

The town turned out to be just as underwhelming as Stan's house. Most shops had boards over them and the ones that did not usually and broken windows. A cracked fire hydrant sprayed water across the street, and two police members merely stood nearby, observing it with vacant eyes. The town hall lay at the end of Main Street, with looming gargoyles. Beside it stood the museum, an extremely narrow building. Dipper headed for the only place which looked half decent.

The diner.

The inside of the building was poorly lit and it smelled of the title-grease (the restaurant was named The Greasy Ladle). If it was someone's job to clean the white checkered floor, then they had failed horribly. A fan drifted lazily over the scene, dust clinging to its blades as papers rustled and workers on their lunch break swapped stories in a barely concealed hush.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to eyeball him when he first entered the building, and Dipper marched to the counter, trying to ignore their gazes. A woman with a bandage covering half of her face came to take his order (cherry pie) and gave a sad smile when she realized he was new in town. The woman retreated into the steam-filled kitchen, and Dipper glanced over at the massive lumberjack which sat beside him. "Umm, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the Fair family…uh, would you?" Everyone in the diner gave him a look like a rat had just crawled out of his mouth. Realizing that this was a touchy subject, Dipper gulped and tried to keep his questioning at a low key. The man finished sipping his beer and brushed foam from his beard.

"I don't want to bother you, it's just that I'm new to town…and I-I-I-" Dipper nearly fell out of his seat when the lumberjack stood, and towered over him.

"Okay, never mind. It was a stupid ques-" The redheaded hulk grabbed his collar and pulled the teen into the air.

He focused his dark eyes on the trembling investigator and spoke in a low yet perilous voice. "Stay AWAY, from that place."

His fist unclenched, and Dipper hit the floor with a pained whine. Gasping for breath, he stood up in time for his pie to arrive.

Had he been a more compliant person, he might have stayed away from the mansion and warned Mabel about how everyone in the town did. Had he been a wise soul, he would have tied rocks to that awful book and chucked it in the lake, and then apologized to his sister, promising never to hide stuff from her. Had he been either of those things, he could have saved the world a lot of pain and suffering.

Instead, he scarfed down the food, and headed in the direction of the thing he should have avoided.

 **[0]**

It took hours to locate the mansion, but Dipper was not disappointed when he finally found it. At first glance, the manor looked exquisite and the grounds surrounding were superbly kept.

But as he approached, the house and grounds began to decay before his very eyes. The paint peeled off more and more, and the path began to blur as the mansion underwent great change. A beaten up "FOR SALE" sign lay half submerged in the muck. The hedge maze became rattier and rattier, until it eventually just transforming into a landmine of brambles and potholes. Statues and fountains crumbled before his eyes, and Dipper had to sit down on a log to avoid falling over from the overwhelming sense of confusion and vertigo.

With one hand to his head, he flipped open the journal and searched for anything and everything relating to hallucinations. His flipping finally slowed, and his glazed eyes slowly absorbed the words on the page.

 _ENCHANTMENTS MAY BE OVERRODE BY ACCEPTANCE._

Dipper frowned, unable to decipher, even though the words were in English. No clear meaning present itself, however. _Acceptance? Acceptance of what?_

That word seemed important, something which he had promised someone a long time ago that he would not forget ever forget. Whenever Dipper tried to comprehend how the message pertained to his current situation, however, his mind rejected it. He looked up and saw a well-kept mansion. Then he blinked and saw an abandoned one. He blinked again and saw the beautiful illusion. Then he rubbed his eyes and saw the power of time. Glancing back down at the page, he shut his eyes and did as the forest wanted him to.

 _Everything is fine. The mansion is not rotting. Everything is fine. Nothing is suspicious. Everything is fine. The mansion is not rotting. Everything is fine._

He opened his eyes, and a husk of a house stood, unwavering in the stiff wind. A grin spread across his face, and he rose with a clear mind. He ambled down the path, finding more and more "FOR SALE" signs consumed by the unkempt grounds as he proceeded closer to the mansion porch.

 _Do they want to sell it or not?_

A rocking chair resided on the porch, creaking with the wind. Dipper removed the journal. The first type of creature he found to live in mansions was Strigoi (or lesser vampires). The page depicted a creature with handsome features, morphing into a hunched corpse, its jaw swinging loose as its abyssal eyes closed on the skull it fondled.

Dipper snapped the book closed after reading the two entries in regular English, too anxious to sit down and decode more.

As he got closer to the house, the stench of rot infiltrated his nostrils, and he stepped over the anaconda sized vines which choked the path. The front door hung on by one hinge, swinging towards him. Dipper peered inside to find that the inside was in greater disrepair. The royal staircase strangled a tree which grew straight up through the house and penetrated the skylight. Shards of glass lay everywhere, each a different shade of green, pink, or purple. Blood trickled down the steps, and he traced the liquid's origin to the dead animals which been nailed to the walls.

Gagging on the aroma, Dipper retreated and clutched his stomach to prevent from vomiting. A light giggle filled the air, and something flashed in the corner of his unblinking eye. He turned towards the open doorway and could swear that he saw a woman dressed in black and red by the staircase.

Then he heard more giggles and turned towards the path to see a well-tended grounds and Mabel walking hand in hand with Norman.

"Oh my god, you're so funny!" The person who Dipper was 99% sure not a human or actually seventeen-years-old smiled graciously and continued to grin as she complimented him.

"Mabel; this afternoon has been simply delightful. Would you be interested in joining me for a spot of tea?"

Dipper felt his face grow hot and his fists tighten. "MABLE!"

She looked up, eyes wide at his appearance. Norman's mouth twisted in displeasure, his scar suddenly looking larger and darker in hue. "Dipper…I did not expect to find you spying on my estate. I expect some would find your obsession with your sister commendable. Personally, I find it a touch perturbing."

He raised an eyebrow, and Dipper swore that his eyes blackened. A predatory cunning lay behind those perfect orbs, and Dipper got the awful feeling that if the rich boy glared any harder, lightning would strike. He took a step back, his head beginning to ache from trying to comprehend the madness which lay coiled in the creature's skull.

Mabel glanced nervously at Norman, before stepping up. "Dipper…what are you doing here?"

The investigator ran a hand over his mouth and try to put himself between her and the stewing Norman. "Mabel, this place…it's not what it looks like. We need to go home, right now!"

She glared and stepped away, "Oh right! It's a good thing you were here Dipper. God forbid that I might actually be happy! Is that the big threat? That I'm gonna die because I'm too happy?"

Dipper ran a hand through his hair and attempted to indicate the levity of the situation without alerting Norman, "Mabel, this is serious, this guy-" Norman bristled and stepped closer as he finished his sentence. "-he's not human."

"Ohhhh, RIIIIGHT. He's not human! Silly me, I thought he was." She slapped a hand against her forehead, rolling her eyes in the most exaggerated manner possible.

"Mabel…" Dipper's teeth had become a machine, grinding within his mouth uncontrollably.

"I guess it's a common mistake because he talks like a human. _He walks like a human,_ and he certainly _kisses_ like a human."

She huffed, turning towards the doorway. Dipper panicked. He grabbed her hand, refusing to allow her to enter the mansion. "I'M SERIOUS MABEL!"

She didn't look his way, just pulling against his ever tightening grip. "Let go of my hand Dipper! NOW!"

"Please…you have to trust me, I'll explain everything later but you have to-"

She looked his way. "Right. Like you trusted me?"

He stopped, and her rebuttal taking the words right from his mouth.

Before he could respond, the brace-toothed girl raised her foot and kicked him in the stomach. She yanked her hand away and watched silently as Dipper toppled backward and hit his head on the final porch step. Her twin moaned, struggling to get to his feet, and gripping his bruised scalp. He looked up at her desperately. Her face was completely expressionless, and for a moment, he thought that she was going to help him up.

"Leave me alone Dipper." She slammed the door close, and her twin scrambled to his feet.

"MABEL-"

His call was cut short when he received a cane across his face. Blood spurted from his nose, now broken, and painted his shirt. He stumbled again, this time landing in thickets.

Norman approached with black eyes and yellow pupils. The emerald irises, used to lure teenage girl's back here, just like his perfect hair and sharp nose, had disappeared. He was no longer in need of them.

 _"Listen up…friend...you are going to run on home, and forget all about your sister. She belongs to ME NOW. Humans have not once overcome my kind, in actuality you, imbeciles frequently worship us. Understood?"_

Dipper wiped the blood from his cheek and pushed to a standing position. "YOU CAN KEEP HER!"

He turned away and felt his vision blur with pain and rage. The sun was at its highest point, and once again its heat tore into his back and dried the blood on his shirt. Digging his fingernails into the journal, Dipper stared down at the golden hand with tears.

 _What's the point in trying to save people, if they don't accept that they need help?_

"This is all your fault."

The Journal remained unimpressed by his accusation.

 _It wasn't that great a life anyway, if anyone's life was going to be ruined, it may have well been yours._ He told his conscious to shut up as he glared at the mud beneath his, feet.

Yes, his life hadn't been great. But she had. Mabel had brought fireworks, finger paintings, and bad music into his life. She had brought _color._ Without her, life wasn't life. Mabel had helped him when he attempted to prove the existence of ghosts as an eight-year-old. She still had the scar from when they messed around with the fish hooks.

He tossed the book into the bushes and panted for a moment. Then he reached into the river and splashed water on his face. For a moment he sat there, staring at his reflection in the stream and trying to think of a reason to do anything besides go to sleep.

Then he heard a light shriek and raised his vision. A big-eyed, grey-skinned creature stared back at him. It lacked a nose or ears, but a little mouth popped up beneath its bug eyes and revealed a mouth and throat full of needle teeth. Every hair stood on its end as he stared into its bug eyes, and it growled lightly. He nearly fell over when it shrieked again, and it occurred to Dipper that this forest was a very dangerous place to be alone.

The teen sprinted back onto the winding path and followed it towards the Shack. He kicked gravel as he listed all the problems with Mabel, and how great life would be without her. By the time he had gotten back to his great uncle's tourist trap, he was out of insults and had begun insulting himself for ever thinking she would believe him. He stepped out of the forest in time to get a mop thrown at him.

"HEY LAZY! FRONT PORCH NEEDS CLEANING!" Stan removed a bucket from inside and Dipper fought the urge to hit him with the mop.

Instead, he climbed the mighty stairs and swiped the bucket from Stan. The man wasn't amused at his misery per usual. Dipper tried not to dwell on it, focused entirely on finishing the chore so that he might sleep.

He felt stupid for even thinking that Stan would care about where Mabel was, and why his shirt had blood stains all over it. Why would he? No one cared about him, no one cared about Mabel. They were lost in a sea of hostility, and all they had was each other.

At least, they had been until he had broken that pact.

His eyes got misty as he continued to mop the moldy wood and toss buckets full of dirty water off the railing. The spicket clogged and shook with every attempt to refill the pail, another frustration to push him towards the snapping point. Soon his head ached twice as hard, his fingers were coated in splinters, and he had more aches than he thought physically possible. Looking back at the woods, he realized that it had been hours and Mabel had still not returned.

 _Nothing I can do about it._ He lied to himself.

He moved inside, ignoring Wendy's gentle wave and Stan's insult (something about taking too long to do a simple job). The moment he reached his bedroom, he flopped down on it and tried to let exhaustion take hold. All he could picture, though, was the look she gave him as he fell backward…

 **[0]**

Dipper awoke with a horrible headache and heaved himself out of bed. He felt sick to his stomach, and entered the bathroom, retching into the toilet and watching his own vomit float in the water. The sun had not come up yet, and he struggled to even flush the toilet. Returning to his bed without washing his hands, he fell into more sleep. Another nightmare of hell breaking loose, although now it felt strangely comforting.

Stan woke him up from this never-ending apocalypse and asked where his sister was.

"Check the Fair Mansion…" On some level, Dipper hoped the old man did just that and got the blood sucked dry from his wrinkly husk of a body.

Instead, Stan just instructed him to get to work. Dipper was surprised that he wasn't worried about what their parents might say if Mabel went missing. He spent the rest of the day cleaning, shingling, and chopping wood. With every passing hour he felt worse and worse, and soon he felt ready to fall over in misery. The splinters in his hands burned, but he enjoyed the pain. It was a speck of the repentance required of him.

As he collapsed on the bed, Dipper felt himself grow claustrophobic to the world. He realized, as his eyes ached for the relief of tears but received none, that he had never gone this long without his twin sister. To some people, that might be pathetic, but, to him, it felt awful.

He fell into sleep quickly this time and was rewarded with no dreams. When he awoke, his throat burned.

 _Great, now I've got a cold._

Cursing every power he knew, Dipper spat up some phlegm on the blanket. Morning light had just begun to enter the room, and as he tried to locate tissues from his luggage, a note beneath Mabel's bed caught his eye. He scrambled for it and almost tore the crumpled paper in his haste.

 _"Dear Dipper,_

 _I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you run away from me in the forest, but please forgive me! I know this isn't the summer you were expecting, but please give it a try! We haven't been able to spend this much time together since middle school I really, REALLY want us to stay close. So…please forgive me? Signed, Mabel"_

Dipper's tears began to strike the multicolored text, and he shuddered. His fingers gripped the paper, the sound of crinkling joining his light sobs.

"What have I done…?"

The note nearly fell as his grip disappeared. The energy, the will to care had left his body. It was replaced by the desire to rewind time.

"Oh god I'm sorry…what have I done…?"

Reaching down with a still shaking hand, he grabbed the note and stuffed it into his pocket. He stood on unsteady legs and made for the back door.

There was no more time for dicking around. He had to save her.

 **[0]**

Sneaking the keys from the sleeping Stan had been easy. The hard part had been retracing his steps and finding the journal. He knew he would need it for the upcoming battle. Even harder, had been driving through the maze of dirt paths.

When Dipper finally reached the mansion, he parked just short of crashing into the porch. Grabbing his hatchet, and making sure that it was safely tucked in his backpack, he exited the car and found that the forest looked dangerous and imposing from this angle. Another mind trick. He turned away from the blood-colored sky and climbed onto the rotting porch. He began striking the front door as though it was responsible for all hardship in his life.

Ferociously he kicked down the remains of the oak door and snarled as he entered. "GIVE HER BACK!"

His rage faded, replaced with confusion at entering the mansion. He blinked rapidly, unable to fully absorb how the darkened wreck of a house had become this extensive ballroom.

"What the-" The masked crowds all turned to him, and grinned cruelly. They began to crowd around him, jeering and taunting as he swung the ax to keep them at arm's length.

A familiar voice filled the air, and Dipper looked up to see Norman hover towards him.

The creature addressed him like a human would an ant, _"Well hello there, Dipper, nice to see that you still give a shit about the one thing that makes your worthless life bearable."_

"WHERE IS SHE?" He jumped forward with a swing of the ax, forcing his enemies to part as he neared the smug bastard who levitated above.

 _"Oh, your sister? She's in the dining hall, entertaining everyone…"_ He jerked a thumb in the correct direction as his eyes split apart to reveal black slug-shaped iris

Dipper kicked a gray skinned woman away and darted towards the dining hall. "MABEL! I'm here! I'm sorry for abandoning y-"

He entered the room expecting to find a horde of these bastards draining Mabel of her blood.

Instead, he found his twin in a faded ballerina costume, dancing on the table as strangely dressed people clapped, giggled, and gurgled. They watched her movements with slobbering anticipation and cheered every time that she stumbled or made a noise to signal that she was in pain. It wasn't their eyes which Dipper was staring into, but his sister's.

Once bright and full of fire, they were now empty and useless, just decorations for her skull. Mabel had them focused on nothing, not paying an ounce of attention to her voyeurs or her own routine. Dipper didn't think that she could even hear the music.

Every movement was painfully slow, her face staying completely stone even as he called out to her. He couldn't help but be a touch mesmerized. She would have looked pretty, even beautiful, had her appearance not been so disheveled.

Her legs were covered with bruises from missteps, her movement clunky from exhaustion. Her dress clung on just barely, almost entirely shreds at this point. But she danced nonetheless her, feet narrowly avoiding the piles of decomposing food. Cracked stained glass windows shed early morning light upon the mob of masked individuals who watched her dance with slack jaws and incomprehensible muttering. He called out again but she ignored him and continued her perfectly performed routine.

 _She doesn't even know ballet-what the hell is going on here?!_

Norman answered Dipper's unspoken question as the people on the table stood up and began nearing the newcomer. _"She ate some of the fare and in accordance with our rules, any humans who consume our magnificent cuisine-"_

The masked crowd finished his sentence and promptly burst into a fit of giggles which clawed at Dipper's ear drums, _"-HAS TO ENTERTAIN TILL THEY DROP DEAD!"_

They fell into hysterics, as though this was the funniest joke told in their magnificent lifetimes. Slapping each other with the hilarity, they choked and spat, lurched and wobbled, a mob of madness on the verge of regurgitating across each other and then just laughing at that. They moved with too much lunacy and spoke with too much well-executed flair to be drunk or high.

Dipper realized that they were just made this way. Every vowel in their words, every snicker, and every movement gave off an air of snide cruelty which went unmatched by anything Dipper had been given the displeasure of experiencing. And that observation came from a guy who had been bullied since second grade.

They were not human, they could not be when their brains operated on an entirely different emotional spectrum. For so many centuries they had been alive, that mortality had become a joke. They had no respect for human life, for humans were toys, pets, and circus animals. Humanity existed solely to provide momentary entertainment for them.

Cruel, sadistic entertainment. But the most horrible thing about the monsters was that Dipper could not blame them. Such knowledge of the arcane was held within their misshapen skulls, that by comparison humans were dumb as bricks.

His observations were broken when The Guests all turned on him and began removing their masks one at a time. They giggled at the look of horror which crossed his face. Dipper stared at his new foes, unable to understand what they were or how he could have been so wrong about their species.

Some inspected him multiple eyes, others had knives for chins and branches for arms. Their eyes shined like river pebbles and their teeth like needles. Blood rolled down their cheeks like tears, and their hideous laughter made him want to curl up in a ball. He swung out, but the blade of the ax stuck into the neck of one chortling minion. Sap oozed from the wound and clung to the blade.

Had the creature been a Strigoi, it would have died to decapitation. The garlic in his pocket felt useless as they got closer and closer to him and he realized that he had committed crucial miscalculation.

"You-you aren't vampires…" He let go of the ax to avoid being scratched, and the gargoyle-esque beast tore the weapon free of its own neck, before flinging the weapon to the side.

 _"Of course, we aren't vampires, you silly little city slicker."_ Norman burst into flame as he spoke, and the words came out as a crackle of discord and ambivalence.

Dipper shielded himself from the massive pillar of heat with his hands and looked through his fingers as the shadows of the creatures began to spin across the hall. He clutched his ears as the sounds of wild birds echoed through the hall. Crows and owls landed upon the rotting rafters of the grand dining hall and watched with cold eyes as The Guests became closer and closer to the human they would soon scavenge.

A claw swiped out and dug around Dipper's neck, pulling him into the crowd. The arm was made of bark and infested with wasps and had thorns which curled off and tore at his cheeks. Claws gripped his limbs and raised him above the floor, his form wriggling against their iron strength as they licked their lips.

Norman watched with those terrible slug eyes of his, smirking as Dipper struggled like a bug about to be torn apart by baby birds. _"We are one of the oldest things in this world, we are the stuff of your dreams and nightmares…"_

Norman lowered himself and stuck his face incredibly close to Dipper's, too sadistic to not enjoy the look of shock. _"We're FEY."_

He giggled and pulled away as the teen began to scream at the bites and scratches. _"We'll tickle you until you can't breathe and then we'll strip the flesh off your bones for interrupting our lovely show. Face it, that's what you humans get when you don't respect your elder-"_

At that moment, someone lobbed an ivory candlestick into the fairy leader's head, interrupting his moment of gloating. He turned with burning eyes and found Mabel Pines was charging towards him. She kicked him in between the legs and slammed a skillet down upon his head. The lesser fey ceased attempting to kill Dipper and looked up in confusion. No one had ever stood up to their king before.

"DIPPER! CATCH!" Mabel flung her knitting needles through the air. Dipper broke free of his captors in time to grab them and stare at his sister questioningly.

"What am I supposed to do with these!?" The mob got control and he could feel his strength sapping away.

Norman stood to his full height, antlers sprouting from his head as his lanky form grew dark and foreboding. The fire which surrounded him turned green as his claws extended to become branch sized. The rafters broke under assault from his growing form, and the birds scattered to the four winds to escape his wrath.

 _"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT MABEL DEAR…"_

Dipper cried out as the fey picked up his prize, and muffled her screams with a cocoon of quickly growing moss. "MABEL!"

Before she was totally sewn up, he heard her scream "IRON." The word clicked in his mind, and he stabbed the needles into the fair folk holding his right arm. They hiss and retreated leaving him able to stab the ones holding his left leg, and then kicking himself free. He and Mabel had used to huddle in bed while he read The Spiderwick Chronicles to her. He would always give the character's silly voices to entertain her. If the series was to be believed, iron was poisonous to the fair folk. It was Dipper's turn to charge at the monster.

He hoped to God that the authors of the children series had done their research.

Evading the balls of scorching light tossed his way, Dipper used the needles to mount the wooden leg of the angry fey. Norman screamed and tried to crush his insectile assailant by smashing his own leg against the walls of the mansion. This tactic failed, however, and Dipper leaped onto Mabel's prison of vegetation and fungi. He stabbed the needles into it and used all the strength he had to tear open the moss.

A horrible stench struck him as the capsule broke, and oxygen reached Mabel's lungs. Grabbing her by the wrist, he leaped from the hand and braced himself for pain. He stabbed out a leg as they descended towards the window. The two of them went crashing through the window to their left and rolled across the garden.

A deep roar echoed from within the mansion, as the twins lay on the grass, recovering. Dipper grabbed Mabel's hand the moment he stood up, tugging her towards the car before she could even get a few good inhales. He turned the ignition and began driving before she had even locked her seatbelt.

"Mabel…I told you that something was wrong with him! I told you not to go inside of that house!" He half whispered as Norman burst out of the house, screaming after the retreating teens. The sky darkened, as though even the sun feared the fair folk.

"I'm sorry Dipper…I should have trusted you…" He gave her bruised and ashamed face a once over, and looked back at the road. He swerved to avoid the roots which snapped out of the ground to grip his vehicle.

He pulled it to the side as he muttered his own apology. "Well I'm sorry for being an asshole…this is mostly my fault…" Glancing at the quickly approaching Norman (now of a titanic stature), Dipper handed the needles to his twin.

"Let's focus on escaping. We can have an awkward sibling hug later, kay?" Mabel asked.

He nodded and watched as the needle rose up the speedometer. Norman was still gaining, his mouth a cage of crystal shards slamming up and down in unfathomable profanities. He had turned entirely inhuman, skin replaced by cracked bark.

Mabel noticed as well that he was gaining on them. "Dipper…I don't think we can outrun him."

Dipper looked in the rearview mirror and nodded in solid agreement. "Yeah, we can't…but we can slow him down…"

Grinding towards the river, Dipper aimed for a cliff. "Uh, Bro…you know that we're about to go over a cliff…right?"

Dipper ignored her and clung to the wheel as they went flying off. Mabel gripped her seatbelt as they plummeted through the air, into the bushes below. He streaked off through the ever-widening trees, Norman jumping the river and crashing to the ground close by. He swiped at them and Dipper felt the whole car nearly fall apart. The cracked windows began shuddering and shattering. The wheels began to lose air, and the engine burned faster than ever, propelling them towards what would no doubt be a gruesome death.

"Dipper we HAVE to do something!"

 _"You cannot outrun me foolish mortals, I am the epidemic, I am the tempest, I am the famine, and I am the drought. I will flay your hides and string up your corpses. I will find you no matter where you go. Your children will be mine, your loved ones will drown…"_

Dipper nodded, doing his best to think as he drove precariously. "Wait, doesn't Stan have a gun in the glove compartment?" He remembered his great-uncle chiding his twin for removing it on the way up from Piedmont. "Yeah…YEAH!" Mabel yanked open the glove compartment and removed the revolver.

"Yeah…YEAH!" Mabel yanked open the glove compartment and removed the revolver.

"HEY NORMAN! YOU WERE THE WORST BOYFRIEND EVER!" She fired off rapidly, and the semi-iron shots ripped through the worst nature had to offer.

Green blood splattered across the sandy path, and Norman let out a terrible moan. The godlike beast collapsed to its knees as Dipper hit 90 and they whizzed through the remainder of the forest. He hit the brakes in time for them to crash into the dumpster.

As the twins clambered out, a roar of anger filled the air and Stan exited the kitchen wearing a wife beater and boxers, a shotgun in hand. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU BRATS DO TO MY CAR?"

He glared at them, and they both responded with a shrug. Mabel spoke up, handing him the revolver.

"I also used some of the bullets in this…" She handed it to him, and he stared at the smoking barrel with utter shock.

"Get. Inside. The house. NOW!" They did as commanded, and Stan began to mutter innumerable curses as they climbed the steps, and waited in the kitchen.

"I'll take the fall for it…this is all my fault anyway…"

Mabel placed her hand on Dipper's, and he tried not to notice how nice it felt. "No way Dip, either we both get blamed for this or neither of us do." Her eyes closed briefly as she inhaled. "But you are no more responsible for this mess than I am. I love you Dipper,"

His breath hitched in his throat, and he tried not to look too happy at this news. "And if we can fight a giant fairy-monster-rich-boy than we can survive a summer of being grounded, and mom and dad being angry."

Dipper looked into her deep brown eyes and felt his anxiety, his sexual frustration, and his distrust vanished from his mind. His sister was alright, somehow, she was alright. If he couldn't be happy because of that, then nothing would ever make him content.

Everything was right with the universe for this infinitesimally small moment.

 **[0]**

Stan glowered at the wreck. Then he sniggered. He had to raise a hand to his mouth to prevent the twins from hearing his laughter.

Those two would fit in just fine, and would survive what could consume the souls of most navy seals, that was for sure. He looked down at the gun and smirked. The girl wasn't too girly, and the boy wasn't too nerdy. They would make a fine pair, and everything would go according to plan.

As long as they stayed away from the basement that is.

Turning his attention to the forest, he sensed the horrible moan which reverberated between.

The old grinned, revealing his many yellowing teeth as he spoke to himself, "Bout' time those assholes got their comeuppance…"

As he climbed the stairs and called for McGucket, he couldn't help but turn back and add, "And from Hansel and Gretel no less."

 **[0]**

The twins spent the rest of the day buying the parts which McGucket required and discussing all the things which they had ceased talking about since high school. Dipper revealed how much he had missed her, but assumed that she didn't want to be around him, since she had a myriad of friends, and every one of them basically hated him. She revealed how jealous she had been now that he was getting better grades (and their father's praise by proxy) while she struggled with Algebra and History. They had embraced, and he had shown her the journal, before asking if he should keep it.

"With all the trouble it got us into…"

She closed the book and smiled, "Dipper, it's just a book. You can keep it if you want."

He exhaled and thanked her for being the greatest sister in existence.

Near eleven-o-clock, Dipper sat in bed, using a nightlight to make additions to The Journal. He added "IRON, GUNS," and "CARS" to the Fey page, before glancing over at his sleeping sister. She had helped him fill in all kinds of things which the Author had been totally ignorant to.

Slipping the beaten up book beneath his pillow, he closed his eyes and received a good night's rest for the first time since arriving in this strange place.

* * *

 **Long first episode I guess! Tell me what you guys think, and I'll see if I can make any improvements.**

 **There is a reference to the band "Creature Feature" in this chapter. Review if you find it.**


	2. S1, E2: A matter of Convenience

**Episode 2: A Matter of Convenience**

* * *

Dipper looked up from The Journal, pen in hand. "Hey Mabel, do you think that I should classify the creature we found yesterday as "Miscellaneous" or "Unclassified."

She spun the globe with her finger, shrugging. "All I know is that I am b-o-r-e-d. BORED! Can we go out and rough up those fairies again?"

Dipper didn't even look up, "No. That is a terrible idea, quite possibly the worst you have thus far proposed." She smirked, "I don't know Dips, I think I've had worse ideas…like this one!" Dipper sighed in preparation, "What if we played truth or dare."

She smirked, "I don't know Dips, I think I've had worse ideas…like this one!" Dipper sighed in preparation, "What if we played truth or dare."

Dipper sighed in preparation, "And what might that be?"What if we played truth or dare."

"What if we played truth or dare?"

The investigator shrugged, "Well that's actually not as horrible as I anticipated."

She nodded, "So…"

"It's still a no."

"AW! Why?"

Dipper looked up, "Because I know everything about you, you know everything about me, and you aren't afraid of most dares. The game wouldn't be fun…for me."

Mabel glanced around, considering and then discovering that playing with McGucket was a truly awful idea. Then she spotted Wendy, flipping close her phone and heading for the exit. "Hey, WenWen! You wanna play truth or dare with me and Dipster?!"

The "Dipster" in question, raised his head and found Wendy staring at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. He gulped.

She shook her head after a moment, "Sorry dudes, I'm gonna have to take a raincheck." Dipper exhaled, his heart returning to its regular pace with the knowledge that his crush wouldn't be able to discover his darkest secrets.

Mabel leaped over the counter, "Well where are you going, maybe we can tag along!"

Wendy stroked her chin, "I guess…I mean, you guys must be pretty cool if you did that much damage to Stan's car…Okay, you guys can come!"

Dipper straightened up, quickly slipping The Journal into his backpack. "R-really?"

Wendy nodded with a slight smile, "But you guys have to keep it cool around my friends, and you have to promise you won't tell Stan."

Dipper drew his fingers across his mouth and flicked his thumb to demonstrate zipping up his mouth. Mabel offered to pinky swear instead, but Wendy just laughed and said that she trusted them.

"So uh…" Dipper scratched the back of his neck as a black van pulled up in front of the house. "…where might we be going?"

Wendy grinned as the van door swung open, and a nineteen-year-old who looked more dead than alive offered his hand to her. She spoke as she gestured for them to follow.

"Where else? The Dusk 'Till Dawn shopping center!"

 **[ 0 ]**

Wendy quickly introduced them to her friends.

Tambry was a hacker and technology nut, who apparently had stolen the google glass which she wore. Her hair was dyed purple, and her leather jacket as about as faded as the dim light in her eyes. Robbie was Wendy's boyfriend (which meant that Dipper instantly hated him) and seemed as intimidating as he was intense. A bandana decorated with skulls concealed his chin, and his eyes were deeply inset. He wore a mangy coat and dirty jeans. He apparently had almost killed someone.

Nate and Lee were two nasty mouth jocks who insulted everything under the sun in the most offensive way possible. And Thompson was an obese, nervous wreck. For some reason, he had been put in charge of the wheel, and Lee thought it was fun to deprive him of his pills.

The van lacked seatbelts, which did not help persuade Dipper that he had not put his sister in danger by not rejecting the offer to tag along with Wendy. The no seatbelts, however, meant that he was jammed up against Wendy in the backseat, and whenever the van took a sharp turn, he nearly fell on her. She giggled at his shyness and asked if he wanted a joint.

"No thanks, Stan will be able to smell it on me."

She smirked, "He does have a nose like a pig doesn't he?"

Dipper nodded look up, "N-no offense…but why does he even employ you if he doesn't like that stuff in his shop?"

Wendy looked out the window and muttered her response quietly. "Beats me. Security probably."

Before Dipper could ask what she meant, he was thrown forward as the van screeched to a halt. Robbie snickered at his expense, as Wendy offered a hand. Her smile was patient, but he could tell that she was holding back her own giggles.

Gripping her hand, he tried to ignore how stupid he must have looked. "I-I-I-uh…thanks."

She dusted off his cap and jumped out of the van. "Don't mention it."

Her friends went hooting and hollering towards the massive structure which they had driven up the mountain to reach. A massive skylight could be seen from the van. As Dipper neared it, he discovered a large fence entangled with barbed wire.

"Warning: gas leakage, do not enter." He looked back at the older teens, in time to watch most of them giggle.

Nate removed a pair of wire cutters from his pocket and spoke as he got to work making an entrance. "Ah quit your bitchin', everyone knows the gas leak story is bullshit."

Dipper turned to Wendy, "But why would they-?"

Robbie interjected before his girlfriend could speak. "Buncha idiots died here thirty years ago, since then the whole place got shut down."

Mabel looked up brightly from Nate's work and spoke with utter benignity. "How did they die?"

Tambry kept up her constant typing as she answered Mabel's query, "A bunch of idiots locked themselves inside the storage room. They were on coke and they panicked. They started scratching and clawing each other, screaming about falling…they died of panic attacks."

Dipper looked up at her. "Wait, all of them…at once."

She nodded as though such were daily occurrences. He smiled.

"DONE! Yeah, suck it fence!" Lee high-fived Nate and they sprinted towards the shopping center.

Robbie sniggered again at Dipper's expense, "If you're too much of a baby then you can wait in the van…"

Mabel rolled her eyes and stepped through the hole in the fence. "C'mon bro, it'll be fun! Everyone knows that ghosts were invented for cheesy 70's movies!"

Dipper reached out to stop her and then caught himself.

Wendy glanced at him and muttered to herself. "Maybe this was a mistake…"

Turning her way, he shook his head and forced a smile. "No, this, this was a good idea. Heh, what better place to visit on a Friday night?"

She gave a concerned look when he laughed nervously, but he turned towards the fence before another word could be spoken. He slipped through the hole in the fence, his tee-shirt catching on the chain-link and requiring several tugs to be set free. Wendy followed right after, tapping him on the shoulder when he called for Mabel to slow down and wait for them.

"Hey Dip," He looked up in time to see a mischievous grin cross her face. "LAST ONE THERE IS A ROTTEN EGG!"

She bolted forward, pushing him to the side. Tambry snickered when he slipped on the mud, but Dipper ignored her. Instead, the younger teen jumped to his feet and sprinted after his redheaded crush. "HEY! No fair!"

He pursued his prey over the wasteland parking lot which surrounded the shopping center and skidded to a halt when he saw that Robbie was having trouble opening the door.

"Hey uh…let me try!"

Robbie chuckled, "RIGHT. Because if I can't get it open than you sure can with your flabby arms."

Dipper felt his fists tighten, and could feel all of their eyes on him. They all wanted to know the next move in the growing rivalry. He snatched up a piece of rubble and launched it through the glass of the door. Robbie jumped back and watched him walk over the sea of shards, reach inside, and unlock the door.

Grabbing the handle, he opened the door, careful not to scratch himself as he spoke. "Let the party…begin."

Mabel did an air kick, "Nice work broseph!"

Lee fist-bumped him, "Nice going! You totally totaled that window."

Wendy gave him a wink while Robbie grumbled something about taking a long walk off a short pier. Following the sweaty Thompson and unimpressed Tambry, Dipper stared in awe as the banners pasted everywhere.

"BLACK FRIDAY SALE!"

"40% OFF!"

"TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE!"

Nate smirked, "I'll jumpstart the generator, and then we can get some _real_ fun going…"

The rest of the group headed up the broken escalator. Jostling and joking, only Dipper thought twice of the left over police tape which tangled on the ground. The moment that he turned away to respond to Wendy's question, the glass which he had covered the tile floor in, began to rise into the air. It collected perfectly, repairing the glass doors to their rusting glory within seconds.

 **[ 0]**

Robbie began spray-painting the insides of the various shops while Dipper and Wendy raided the various shops. Lee sat down and removed some drugs from his backpack. while Mabel played with the shopping carts. Wendy and Dipper teamed up to stop her after the enthusiastic brunette kept launching shopping carts their way. They laughed as Mabel fell over, and admitted defeat by flying her sweater.

As Wendy pulled Dipper aside, intent on introducing him to the concept of alcohol, Mabel made her own discoveries.

"Hey! Watchya' doin'?" She inquired upon sauntering up to him.

He replied with one word as Thompson kicked at the snack machine. "Ecstasy." She nodded, not totally sure just what that was. After a moment, she wondered

He looked up at her silence and grinned, "Do a dance for me and I'll give you some…" She quirked an eyebrow, and once she was sure that Dipper wasn't nearby she shrugged. _Try anything once…_

 **[ 0]**

Her twin had just run out of paintballs and ducked behind a café counter as Wendy fired mercilessly. Her shots pelted the kitchen wall, each color of paint sliding down the wall in muddy streaks. "Face Pines, your mine now…"

Searching the kitchen for something he might use to shield himself, Dipper spotted an abandoned bottle of mustard wedged between the counter and the floor.

 _Man, they must have cleared out of this place super-fast._

He darted over to the newfound ammunition, kicking aside a discarded pan. Standing just as Wendy reached the counter, Dipper squeezed the bottle for all it was worth. Crusty yellow condiment splashed out across her shirt and she squealed.

"EWWW! Man, you are disgusting!"

He smiled proudly, "Well that's what you get for-"

The redhead scooped up the pile of ketchup packets off the counter. With one fell motion, she squeezed down, effectively coating them both in red slime. "HA! Take that! Oh, dude, you look like someone cut you open."

Snickering, Dipper fell to his knees and pretended to flail about on the ground in agony. "Oh, cruel world, of the finer things I never knew! Well,…at least I die how I lived…"

Wendy giggled.

"…covered in thirty-year-old ketchup."

That sent her pounding on the counter in laughter. Dipper looked up from his performance, smiling. Her laughter while in hysterics was far different from her regular hilarity. It was alive with snorts and wheezes, inciting his own laughter.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Wendy snatched up her fallen paint gun and emptied her weapon onto his chest. He didn't mind the pain, though. She was still laughing, and she looked twice as pretty like this. Her hair in a mess, her face red.

She caught his eye and finally her chuckles came to an end. After suggesting that he take up situational comedy, she dropped her gun on the tiles beside him. Stretching her arm, she yawned and turned away.

Dipper scrambled to his feet when she hopped the counter. "Wait, where are you going?"

The ginger glanced back with a raised eyebrow, "The south of France. I'm going to the ladies room Dippingsauce! Look at me, I need clean up. "

She gestured to her shirt, coated in paint and hot dog dressings. Dipper turned away, a look of recognized foolishness on his face. "Oh, right. Sorry."

Again she laughed, and he couldn't stay embarrassed. Her laughter echoed through food court and children's area she disappeared from sight, making him miss her presence already. One look at his own attire informed Dipper that he was just as much a mess as she was. Sprinting over to the men's restroom, he took off his shirt and ran it through the water.

Glancing up at the mirror, he recognized something huge and dark behind him. Then a fingerless glove gripped his arm and pressed him against the sink. He recognized Robbie's scent in the dark room and heard his hiss a moment after. "If you don't stop hitting on my girlfriend, then I _will_ beat the shit out of you."

Dipper squirmed beneath his attacker's grip and was barely able to speak. "We're just frien-"

"BULLSHIT!" Robbie slammed the young investigators head against the counter, and he moaned in pain. "I've seen the way you look at her, so stop LYING. Now, what are you going to do you little shit?"

Dipper spoke through gritted teeth, his legs still squirming in an attempt to find traction against the mildew coated floor. "Okay, I'll keep away from her. Just let go of me you asshole!"

Robbie laughed, pressing harder against his neck and extorting another moan of pain. "How do I know that you're being honest?"

He removed a pocket knife, the knife glinting in the mirror. "I think I need to teach you a lesson first…"

The lights popped on and Dipper shut his eyes. Robbie was not as quick on his feet. Half blinded, his grip loosed, and Dipper elbowed him in the stomach. Winded, the assailant was unable to even curse as Dipper grabbed his shirt, slipped it on, and dashed out the bathroom door.

 **[ 0]**

"Fuck!"

Nate clutched his burnt fingers and stepped away from the generator. "Stupid piece of shit."

The lights behind him flickered, and when he turned, something flashed in the corner of his eye. Frowning, he called out into the darkness. "Guys…you didn't have to come get me."

No answer.

He rolled his eyes with a grin and began mounting the stairs. "Okay, I get it, freak out Nate for taking so long. Alright, I'll play along…" He removed his flashlight and cupped his face with both hands. "Oh no…the spirits of the restless have come to get me!"

There was a scuffling on the steps above, and he flashed the torch towards the noise. Only to find nothing. Just bare concrete steps, a bit of their skin eroded thanks to the building's leaky roof.

Nate huffed, growing increasingly fed up with the prank which he had become the subject of. "Okay seriously guys, you had your joke. Are you done yet? Because my black ass ain't gonna be scared by a couple of cheap tri-"

There was more scuffling and his sentence was cut in half when the voice of a little girl pierced the darkness.

 _"Ring around the rosy, pocket's full of posy…"_

Nate found that his throat had all of a sudden gone dry. "G-Guys?"

 _"Ashes, ashes,"_

He reached the final few stairs, his flashlight illuminated the creature stalking him. It grinned at him with a mouth lacking teeth, blood leaking from between its lips and drying the hair which hung down to its knees. The creature opened its mouth, revealing a tongue which had been cut in half. His eyes widened as it leaped through the flashlight beam, claws extended towards him. The teen jumped back to avoid its claws, and his foot landed on a slimy spot.

He toppled backward, cracking his skull on the concrete steps.

The creature bended over his body, finishing its sickly chant of mourning. _"We all fall down."_

 **[ 0]**

Mabel finished her dance, and turned away, unable to face him. She slipped her shirt and sweater back on and still avoided eye contact as she turned his way. She didn't need to look at Lee's face to see his lecherous grin, thanks to his heavy panting.

"Can I have some now?" She said it like a schoolgirl asking her father for candy after being quiet for ten minutes. Like she hadn't just done, what she had.

He giggled like an idiot and handed her a bag without further hesitation. "Sh-sure thing…"

She ran some between her fingers and tasted it lightly. Her face twisted in distaste, and he reached up towards her.

"No i-i-idiot, you're supposed to inhale it," He snorted his own for demonstration, and then handed her the pipe.

Nodding, she pressed the pipe to the dust. _Well, I've come this far, I HAVE to go through with it._

Taking a deep breath, she inhaled some and watched the world transform before her eyes.

 **[ 0]**

Dipper had just exited the bathroom and ran into the cafeteria to reach the center of the complex. He heard Wendy laughing, and found her sitting on one of the abandoned horses on board the carousel. The paint peeled off of the red stallion, and she cast a grin his way.

"Hey, you think you can turn on this big boy?"

He sighed and moved over to the controls. "Wendy, it probably requires a key-"

The ride lit up, and its distorted song began to play hauntingly as the carousel came to life. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Wendy dashed over to the machine and jumped onboard.

She turned his way, waving as she congratulated him. "Nice work Dippingsauce!"

Dipper looked down at the controls in utter confusion. "But I didn't-"

Wendy laughed and made a "weee!" sound as the carrousel began to move unnaturally quickly. "C'mon Dip, you're not gonna tell me that you're afraid of rollercoasters are you?" He glanced at the controls once more, before shrugging, and climbing over the gate.

He didn't realize that the sagging machine wasn't even plugged in.

 **[A-T-B-A-S-H 0]**

Mabel smiled as she lay on the banks of a massive beach. The sand felt warm and trembling beneath her exposed back. She ran a burning hand across her face and found piercings everywhere. The sea bucked against the moon, which was charging towards her at an alarming speed. Blood began to seep from her piercings as she watched a rotting seal carcass roll up out of the sea of tar. It lay motionless on the beach of skin, attracting a swarm of hungry gulls. Mabel rushed over, screaming at the gulls to leave it be. For some reason, she was crying.

The corpse opened the uneaten eye and spoke without moving its lips. Its voice sounded like something alive had been caught in the dish drain. **"** **Htiw delfirt eb ot ton si Rehpic** **."**

She nodded, pink slime dripping from her shin and splattering across her erect nipples. The ooze felt neither hot nor cold and rolled down her stomach I large gobs. As icebergs collected upon the open sea, the slime froze slid onto her navel. She cried out in pain, desperate to get the quickly freezing substance off of her skin. The flesh surrounding it had begun to grow blue and purple with frostbite.

Rolling over, the beast called out as the ice burned across the world and encased all. **"Detsurt eb ot ton si Senip Drofnats."**

Then the moon collided with the world and everything she knew became a million-trillion bits of nothing.

Mabel awoke face-down in a sandbox. She sat up, brushing flecks of sand off of her cheek. It was in the middle of one of the mini-playgrounds where parents could drop their children so that they could spend more time shopping. Children ran around, climbing on top of the plastic dolphins and seals, sliding down the five-foot slide.

The brunette's attention was gained when one of the children scream in pain. A little African American girl was shoved for taking her time and landed wrong on her arm. She cried out, beginning to scream in pain as her arm jabbed in a direction that it most definitely had not been designed to.

Mabel winced at how grotesque the injury must be in order for the arm to be affixed at that angle. She stood up and tried to reach the girl. But the floor turned treadmill beneath her sneakers, refusing to allow her any closer. The other children gathered around, all staring in horror at their comrade. A man with an unhealthy grin waded through the wide-eyed children and knelt beside the injured party.

He told the girl that her mother had sent him for her. Mabel could hear his voice even from across the playground, and it held no good intentions. At this point, she realized where she was.

This was not real life, and this was not a hallucination. She was in someone else's memory. Someone else's mind, watching the last moments before their death.

He picked her up, and Mabel stared in horror as the man disappeared into the fog which surrounded the playground.

Mabel felt her legs freed from the unrelenting ground and sprinted after the man. The fog got darker, and the pedophile disappeared into it. A blanket of shadow encased him instead, and soon she found herself stumbling about in a sea of nothingness. The only sound in the void was a light crying, and Mabel turned to find the girl with the broken arm bent over, crying into her lap. Dread filled her as the world rotated her towards the victim, her throat tightening.

"Guys? Dipper?! Please, I-I don't like this anymore! Wake me up…I don't like this anymore…"

The girl kept crying, her sobs growing louder and louder with every passing moment. Mabel realized that she had a choice but to comfort the child, and bent on one knee to do so. "It's alright…you're gonna be alright…"

She knew she was talking to a hallucination, but some part of her brain had already realized that the drug trip had been hijacked for something else's purposes.

Each rippling emotion made her feel less and less human, and more like a darkened reflection of the girl. The child shuddered and Mabel gulped, before reaching out with a tentative hand. "It's alright…you are going to be-"

The child snapped her head around and hissed. Black liquid poured empty eye sockets, roaches and flies clambering out of her skull and resting on the edge of her eyes. She slammed into Mabel, her body screaming and convulsing as her eyes went blank and she foamed at the mouth.

The dead girl's fear and sorrow radiated and became her own. Mabel could feel the fear turning into cruelty and the sorrow turning to hate. Her soul was being torn from her spirit, replaced with that desire for making the world pay. Her entire body grew numb as her thoughts slowed to a crawl.

Finally, her soul left her physical form, leaving nothing behind but a husk.

 **[0]**

Dipper heard the scream and recognized his sister's voice almost immediately. He leaped off of the carousel, spraining his ankle but forcing himself to keep running. Wendy followed him, dismounting more skillfully, and discovering Lee, Tambry, and Thompson staring at the girl with wide eyes. Dipper fell to her side and tried to separate her clawing hands.

He got a nasty scratch on his cheek for his trouble.

"AGH! What did you guys give her?!" He glared up at Tambry, and she gestured to Lee. The investigator took one look at the bag in his hand and saw red.

He leaped on top of the older teen and throttled him. With every word his attack grew in intensity, and Lee struggled against his rage born strength. "YOU IDIOT! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S ALLERGIC TO! YOU COULD BE DOING BRAIN DAMAGE TO HER! YOU COULD HAVE _KILLED_ HER!"

Wendy tore him off, and he wiped tears from his eyes, before sprinting back over to his sister. Tambry and Thompson watched , the male looking incredibly distressed while the girl appeared to be interested merely by the bout of violence.

He glared up at the older teens, "C'mon, help me get her to a hospital! STOP STANDING THERE LIKE IDIOTS!"

They glanced at each other, but just as they moved to help, mocking laughter drifted up from the floor level. Everyone but Dipper moved to the railing to see Nate climbing the abandoned escalator, slow and steady. Each movement was jerky and unnatural, and his friends noticed the disturbing red stain on his cap. He had a fire emergency ax in one hand, a sick smile on his face, and claw marks all over his face.

 _"Oh don't bother…you children aren't going anywhere…"_

Thompson swallowed, "N-Nate…what's wrong with y-you…"

The frat grinned harder and refused to respond. Instead, all they received was the one-two clomp of his stagger upwards, and the banging of the ax smacking against the back of the steps.

Lee scowled, "Whatever you're doing Nate, it's not funny. Cut the bullshit man, we need help…"

Nate looked straight up at him and paused his ascent. _"You…think…it's…FUN…to have no purpose…don't you?"_

The gang squinted and frowned as Dipper felt his twin cease to rattle about. _"You think…that being young forever…is a blessing. You think that substance…is unimportant. The lot of you…selfish, sinful, wasting the life which this world has so kindly granted you…WELL, we'll just have to FIX that, now won't we?"_

Robbie's scream filled the air, and Thompson began to mumble half intelligible prayers as he saw the cause of distress. Robbie was running towards them, with hands growing out of the ground and clawing at his legs. One of them gripped his ankle and brought his whole body down. He groaned in pain as Nate's laughter grew. Thompson bolted towards the escalators, and Nate watched him, giggling all the while.

Lee stopped in front of him, "Seriously dude, you need to get a hold of yourself!"

Nate lifted his vision. _"Is that so?"_

He lifted the ax, and Lee jumped backward to avoid being struck. _"You want me to get a hold of myself."_

Blood ran down his yellow teeth, and he picked up a discarded beer bottle. _"I really hate kids like you…always breaking into our grave…mocking our imprisonment with your pleasures of the flesh and the clove. I think you ought to know what it's like…I think you ought to FEEL our pain…"_

He broke the bottle in half and stabbed it into Lee's leg. The teen screamed in pain, and Wendy tackled Nate to the ground.

The boy ignored her, however, turning his sights towards Thompson. _"Keep running boy…you can run and run and run, but you can't outrun the masses."_

Thompson looked up at these words, and as he did, the doors whipped open and a sea of spectral figures sprinted inside. They screamed and bellowed at each other, clawing at one another as they attempted to reach the long dead prices. Their boots and heels trampled over Thompson, the possessed Nate laughing at his grim fate.

 _"How do you like it, worm? How does it feel to have someone walk all over you?"_ Nate glared up at Wendy when she was petrified by the scene, and flipped himself on top of her.

 _"You still don't get it do you little tart…the ghost stories are true…"_ Dipper slammed him over the head with the fallen beer bottle, and he groaned before keeling over.

The detective extended his hand and pulled Wendy over to Mabel. "C'mon we can escape from the back door!"

His twin's eyes popped open, and they glowed bluish-white before she began laughing. _"Oh, my…you aren't going anywhere…"_

She raised a hand and energy flew forth, gripping Dipper tightly and launching him across the hall. He groaned and looked up, to see in horror the state of his sister. She raised used her hands to push herself to her full height, and slumped forward like a zombie, emotionless eyes focused on him, then on Wendy. Each movement came out jerky like she was a puppet at the command of sinister hands. Her head spun backward, a sickening crack ringing out through the mall as she began laughing. She levitated high into the air and grinned down at Wendy.

 _"Run. Run little flesh stick."_

The older teen slowly backed away, before taking the possessed girl's advice and sprinting past Dipper. Robbie and Tambry joined her, having no intention of coming anywhere close to the possessed girl.

Mabel giggled and turned to Lee. _"You were the one who was making this girl do naughty things so that she could have some of the bad stuff…"_

He stared up in terror, each word punctuated by a shiver-inducing echo. The girl lifted him into the air and glanced over at the chandelier with a horrifically wide smile. _"Oh, that'll do nicely…"_

 **[ 0]**

Dipper retreated into the bathroom, his heart attempting to escape his chest as that horrible laughter which did not belong in his sister's mouth rung out in his mind. He dropped his backpack and splashed water on his face.

"Calm down, she needs you to stay calm right now…" The image of Thompson's bruised corpse settled gently into his mind, and he shook it loose.

 _She NEEDS you._

Opening the journal, he tried to locate the page regarding specters while the lights flickered violently. Screams reached him from outside and he tried to keep his heart calm as the whole building began to rumble.

 _No, I just need a little longer…_ He looked up at his reflection and wiped sweat from his birthmark. _If you can defeat a forest deity than you can handle a couple of dead hacks, can't you Pines?_

Once again the horrible images of what those monsters had done came to mind, and his fists tightened. _No more._

He turned the next page and found a sketch of a person clutching at their exposed skull. _Excellent._

 **[ 0]**

Tambry hid behind Wendy as Nate limped towards them. Mabel sent trash bins flying into the shop where Robbie was hiding, her too high pitched laughter causing glass nearby to shatter. Nate twitched horribly, blood oozing from his bald skull, the bash mark revealed now that his cap had dismounted his head. He spoke as he gently lifted and dropped the ax with every mangled step.

 _"C'mon whores…dying isn't so bad…"_ The carousel began to spin behind Wendy and Tambry while the floor shook beneath them, and spectral figured began to circle.

 _"Well…okay…I lied…it's exactly as bad as I made it out to be earlier…"_ Wendy watched his ax grind against the floor and turned when Tambry screamed.

Her body was lifted into the air by the grinning Mabel. _"You waste your life on such pettiness,"_ The little girl used Mabel's face to sneer horribly as she began to constrict Tambry with the energy.

Nate leaped on top of the stunned Wendy, pinning her to the ground as his bloody eyes leaked onto her forehead. His tongue rolled about in his mouth, hungry from decades of lacking the ability to eat. _"It's been SUCH a long time since I had a good fuck…"_

She kneed him in the stomach. He just giggled through the pain. _"Go ahead whore, scratch, bite, kick, pummel…physical pain isn't nearly as horrible to a fourth-dimensional being…"_ Blood leaked from the walls as Lee's corpse slowly turned atop the chandelier.

 _"This is the most fun we've had in YEARS!"_

Her laughter died down as she turned away, and found Dipper entering the scene of utter madness. _"What is oh little brother? Have you come to join the fun?"_

Eyes rolled back in her skull, and she giggled as he swallowed. The world was rippling around him, and a storm of nausea filled him. "I am here to exercise you…" Laughter emitted not just from Mabel and Nate but echoed from every inch of the rotting facility. Nate looked up as Wendy tore at his arms, _"Is that so?"_

Dipper nodded and removed a water bottle. "You have three seconds to leave my friends alone."

More laughter, then he opened the bottle and splashed the blessed water across the body. The sadist screamed and jumped out of the body, giving Wendy enough time to kick it, and watch the corpse stumble backward off the railing. She watched with unmoving eyes, and Mabel screamed like a banshee, causing the skylight to crack and shatter. Dipper grabbed Wendy's hand and pulled her onto the spinning carousel.

Dipper launched the second bottle at Mabel, and she hissed as Tambry was dropped to the floor. The texter darted into the shop, and Mabel turned towards him with burning eyes.

As Dipper caught his breath, faceless children appeared atop the garishly rotting mounts and gripped his collar. They made a horrible giggling sound as they lifted him towards their leader.

Mabel grinned and gripped his chin. _"Out of tricks, out of burning water. Very resourceful to bless brand bottle water, but you are a bad boy nonetheless...you WILL be punished…"_

Raising her index finger, she crooked her finger and pointed with murderous intent. Her eyes flashed teal as visions of being beaten to a pulp were forced into his mind. His entire frame twisted with the crackling energy which extended from her fingertips, eliciting laughter from both possessed teen.

He screamed in agony, every fiber of his being invaded. He could FEEL her pain, he could feel every hate filled the cell, every nightmarish vision of being molested. He kicked against her attack, but the sensation of life leaving form took over, and for a brief moment he saw the emptiness which she had when she died. The incomprehensible void which she had been forced to face alone, as a nine-year-old, it now clawed at his mortal perception.

"P-P-please…" His legs kicked as his head rolled back.

She grinned at his plea. _"He didn't stop when I begged…why should I listen to you…?"_

Dipper didn't know how, but he could sense a bit of Mabel within the girl. He knew that she hadn't totally left the body. He felt his mind unraveling and knew that this might be his last chance. "Mabel…I love you…and I…if I die here…don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known that this would happen…"

His words seemed futile and they came out with great difficulty. The ghost cocked Mabel's head, surprised by this show of affection. This moment gave Wendy time to grab the emergency ax, leap back on, and swing violently. The steel blade cut through the faceless children, and they wobbled, before shattering against the floor of the carousel like frozen meat.

Dipper hit the spinning floor and attempted not to hurl. Mabel hissed at Wendy, and the teen lowered the handle down upon her head.

Mabel fell to the floor beside Dipper, and he stared at her with the utmost regret. The carrousel drew to a halt, as the spectral energy left the area. Wendy reached down, extended hand to Dipper. He took it and thanked her in a hoarse voice, before watching her pick up his sister. They staggered off the decrepit ride, and it collapsed the moment their feet touched the floor.

Robbie and Tambry sprinted out of the shop, not bothering to stop even check if the specters had truly left. Wendy continued walking despite the possession of Lee. He screamed insults at them as they made it to the exit, and the last thing that Dipper heard was _"COME BACK SOON…prices will be lower…"_

Dipper was happy when he stepped outside and the sound of light raining was the only thing he could hear.

When Robbie asked if they were really going to take "that thing" with them, Dipper scowled at him until he grew silent. He stared at the black eye which Wendy had given Mabel in the back of the van and stroked her hair lightly. Wendy retrieved some rope from her house, and they tied Mabel to a tree, per the instructions of The Journal. Dipper felt nervous as he was doing it, but refused to let the creature continue misusing his sister's body.

The possessed girl jolted awake just as Dipper finished tying her, and he leaped back as she began to hiss and snap like a rattlesnake. Wriggling against the ropes, she contorted Mabel's body and thrashed it against the bark, foaming at the mouth and demanding to be let free. Fortunately, Wendy had tied her too tightly for this behavior to cause anything more than rashes and bruises on Mabel's skin.

Her power was much greater while near the place of her passing, so Dipper was able to speak the Latin phrases required without having much more than a little gravel and a few branches launched at him.

The spell took an unfortunate amount of time, giving the phantom a chance to call him and Wendy every dirty word in the book, and describe the manner in which she would make them die. Dipper tried to ignore her, concentrating upon the spell. As he uttered the last word, plumes of green energy stabbed into his sister and like pipes, began extracting the teal energy which inhabited her.

Now, and only now did the ghost show any pain. It shrieked and writhed, spitting and sobbing. The spell had rendered the soul unable to fight against the ropes any longer, such pain it inflicted. It took all of Dipper's inner strength not to look up as her body twisted horribly.

He knew that if he looked at his sister, crying at the torture he was inflicting, he would hesitate. And that moment of hesitation was all the little bitch needed to kill his sister.

It took even more strength not to look away from the spell book after the ghost started gibbering about his every thought. He didn't know at what point it had read his mind but didn't care. Hearing his own stream of consciousness played back for him in his sister's voice, hoarse with misuse, was unbearable. It made him feel like he was going to unravel into sobs right then and there.

Still he chanted, only pausing when the ghost began raving about how much he wanted to do naughty things to his sister.

 _"You are gonna burn in hell you sick fuck."_

Wendy marched up to the body, and for a moment he feared she might punch it, forgetting that it was still Mabel's body. Instead, she removed her left boot and pulled off her sock. Stabbing her foot back into the heavy-duty boots, she stuffed the sock into the ghost's mouth and spoke with total distaste.

"Shut up you whiny brat."

The phantom growled at her, chewing at the sweaty gag and almost vomiting. Wendy returned to Dipper's side and gave him a look which indicated that he should continue. He snapped his attention back to the book

When he had finally finished, a streak of phantasmal energy flew out of him and tore through him. After catching his breath, he began untying Mabel and was covered in vomit when Mabel awoke with a scream. Despite his disgusting shirt, she leaned against him anyway, feeling worse than she ever had before. Her insides felt like they had been torn out and replaced with pillow stuffing while her legs had turned to rubber bands.

As Dipper supported her crying frame, he locked eyes with Wendy. He helped his twin into the van and buckled her up, before placing a bowl in her lap in case she vomited again. She stared at the bowl despondently, as Dipper turned to Wendy.

"Umm, the things that the ghost was saying…"

A smile tugged at Wendy's lips. She didn't even looked away from the road as she spoke, "Don't sweat it, dude, you saved my life…it's not my business if you've got the hots for your sister."

Dipper blushed and thanked her in a small voice.

She drove them back to Stan's house and helped Mabel inside. Wishing him a farewell, Wendy thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. As he stood on the porch, staring at the tire tracks in the mud, the drizzling grew into a storm. By the time he returned inside to check on Mabel, he was soaked.

She opened her eyes, and he sat beside her, asking if she felt nauseous. She shook her head and asked if he could help her up the stairs. Dipper noticed that McGucket and Stan were nowhere to be seen as he did just that. His twin took a long, warm shower while he changed clothes and through away the ones stained with blood.

Mabel entered their room, dressed only in a bathrobe. Dipper looked up from jotting down some observations in the journal and watched, stunned, as she moved to the closet. He coughed and left the room to allow her to change clothes.

After a glass of cold water, he returned upstairs and found his sister in her sushi pajamas, curled up on his bed. "Dipper, is it okay…if I sleep with you tonight?"

He gave a deer in the headlights look and then smiled slightly. "Sure Mabel, anytime."

He moved over, and she crawled into bed, enjoying the warmth provided by the closeness of their bodies. After a moment of staring at the splintery wall, she spoke. "Dipper…do you ever think about dying?"

He frowned and slid The Journal under his pillow. He decided not to go with "all time", he had no intention of worrying her by revealing his own anxiety.

"Occasionally. Why? Are you afraid you'll end up like one of those ghosts?"

She shrugged, her fingers now gripping the pillow. "Maybe but…mostly…I'm afraid about...you Dipper."

"Why would you-"

"Those guys, they were what they were because they were unable to move on Dipper. Because they couldn't accept that they had died. What if you…what if you get killed by one of these monsters, and you're unable to move on because you feel the need to figure out all this mystery junk?"

She rolled towards him and averted his gaze. "What if you end up like them, bitter and...evil…and what if I can't move on without you-?"

He pressed a finger to his lips, "Mabel…philosophy isn't really your thing. None of that junk is going to happen because those people died in horrible and unexpected ways…I know what I'm getting into, and without The Journal, I wouldn't be able to protect you and Wendy…"

She nodded, "Yeah but-"

"And if I did die…I would move on. Because that way…you and I could meet up again."

She grinned and wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks, broseph."

He rolled his eyes and the nickname and hugged her back. "No problem…just promise me you won't do any more drugs."

She pulled away and rolled her own eyes, "Yeah, after that scarring experience which I've gone through, I'm just _dying_ to try out heroin. Dipper…OF COURSE I'M NOT GOING TO DO ANY MORE DRUGS!"

He snickered, and she couldn't help but do likewise. For a moment, he stared at her face, at the scratches and burns. The bruises.

Then he turned away and closed his eyes. She stared at the back of his head for a moment before doing likewise. The emptiness inside of her began to funnel out, replaced with a warmth of immeasurable value.

They both fell asleep around midnight.

* * *

 **This episode is shorter than the last one. Mostly because we weren't establishing a setting...**

 **Anyway, I hope this illustrates that there will be noticeably fewer episodes in this series, vs the actual series. This is partly because of time limitations, but also because not every episode can be changed to be horrific.**

 _ **CODE = Blf szev yvvm girxpvw. Ilmzow Ivztzm dzh z trzmg xlnnfmrhg.**_

* * *

"Questions and Suggestions from coldblue"

 _1) Are we going to read different character perspectives more or are we going to switch between Dipper and Mable Pines perspectives in "Depravity Falls"?_

 **This chapter probably answers your question, but yes. It will switch between Dipper and Mabel.**

 _2) Will there be more Criminal elements such as Drug Dealers/Trafficking in Gravity Falls mountain areas or Gruncle Stan Pines connections/knowledge of Local Criminal Business in the Area?_

 **Well, I hadn't thought about it until now. But I suppose I could work that in. I'll see what I can do.**

 **To answer your second question, yes, Stan has criminal connections.**

 _3) Will Dipper actually get into Pot and hopefully calm down with random/violent thoughts in his head?_

 **The violent thoughts are a result of his condition and the effect of the valley upon specifically him. They've toned down since his first arrival, but he'll still get them.**

 **Also, drugs aren't his thing and Stan would smell it on him.**

 _4) How far are you going to push the adult content or violence?_

 **It's not going to get super-descriptive, as that is against the Fan-Fic rules. But the violence is going to get pretty intense and I'm not going to shy away from stuff of a sexual nature.**

 _5) Are the people of Gravity Falls more aware of Supernatural in their county/town/woods?_

 **Let's just say they know what happened to the last person who started asking questions about the supernatural.**

 _1) I would like to read Dipper AND Mable Pines perspective primarily. This chapter. All about Dipper. I would hope the next chapter has Mable Pines perspective and her thoughts on her relationship with her brother Dipper. I like that Gruncle Stan did make a SMALL perspective of his character on the thoughts of his Niece/Nephew surviving Gravity Falls or not. It would be great to read McGucket and Wendy Corduroy. Though, where is Soos?! Just some thoughts._

 **The next chapter will be almost entirely devoted to Mabel. Sorry, I don't mean to make the story Dipper-centric, I just wanted to introduce the story from his perspective.**

 **Soos is dead in this AU.**

 _2) Gruncle Stanley Pines has the street/criminal knowledge. You be quite surprised or really not so surprised, with how many Criminal elements live in the Mountain. Of course, depending if you are going from 2012, then Pot/Weed not as bad of Drug with it slowly be legalized in the United States. Slowly. Though I expect some Heroine dealers, some Human Trafficking, Counterfeiting, Animal Trafficking or some weird Cult/Society where the VERY Wealth abuse their power over the lower classes. Just some ideas._

 **Well, they are in Oregon, which if I'm not mistaken, has legalized Pot. The stuff that Lee got, though? Yeah, he went to a den to get it.**

 **The folks who run it are going to miss his membership.**

 _3) That would be a read. Dipper and Wendy bonding on smoking pot! Of course, Dipper is not looking for any ordinary weed/drugs. Just something to calm down Dipper Pines thoughts/visions that are disturbing to him and most likely to others. Of course, Drugs could make it WORSE! Let not forget that. Just a thought. If you want to have Dipper and Wendy hang out like friends from "Gravity Falls" in the story of "Depravity Falls", then I figure bonding over using Drugs would be one of these reasons they hang out. After that, Dipper and Wendy actually become good friends or something._

 **They will be good friends. This chapter kind of kicks off their relationship.**

 _4) Adult Content. I'm not expecting sex scenes or Lemons/Limes. Of course, I do expect suggestive material or even some form of descriptions. It just that I don't want "Depravity Falls" to be some Rated X story that about sex. There more in this story than that. I do wonder how the Pines Twins will deal with sexual situations or content, so it will be interesting._

 **The act of sex will not be depicted. As you just saw, Mabel isn't above using her body to get what she wants (though she still feels bad about it). Dipper is afraid of sex, just like he is of everything else which moves.**

 _Violence. Well, I expect a loss of life. Maybe some graphic scenes of Violence and death. Not too much, though. It just something I figure going to happen. Of course, have fun and be bold with some "Gravity Falls" characters or if you have to, then create Original Characters to die/kill off._

 **I intend to kill many characters.**

 _5) That is interesting. The FEYS are known to the people of Gravity Falls. I hope there is a form of Society of the Blind Eye, but they are darker. Like the Society of the Blind Eye silences, the people of Gravity Falls about the Supernatural or somehow contains the Supernatural. Of course, I don't want the Memory Eraser Gun, but if you have to put that into "Depravity Falls" go ahead. It would be interesting, mysterious or dramatic that the Gravity Falls townsfolk actually tried to get the United States Government involved. It would then turn out that a SUPER SECRET part of the US Government knows about Gravity Falls Supernatural and monitors the situation regularly, BUT does nothing about it. Sort of making Gravity Falls townsfolk distrustful of US government or themselves if this is a cover up by BOTH the US or the Society of the Blind Eye._

 **Both the government and the various cults surrounding Gravity Falls are adamant upon maintaining ignorance, or better yet, terrified silence. I've intended for The Society to be incorporated into the story.**


	3. S1, E3: The Destroyer

**Episode 3: The Destroyer**

* * *

"C'mon Dipper, we're gonna miss it!"

Mabel skipped through the fair, intent on seeing the magician show which everyone was raving about. Dipper trailed behind her, smiling good-naturedly despite his obvious disbelief.

She knew that he hated fake supernatural stuff. But she was surprised by how mature he was being about it. In fact, the entire day, in fact, had been going pretty great.

Stan had taken them to the fair to help him set up, and they had been allowed to leave after McGucket showed up. Since then they had been playing games and

Which was good, considering the past few days. Dipper's investigations had grown more and more time consuming, and although he had not adamantly withheld information, he had grown more distant. She knew that he did it for fear of something worse than possession happening to her, but his absence and detachment just left her worried and lonely.

But she could put that all behind her today. As though to fit the mood, the two weeks plus rain had finally left. Sunlight poured across the forest clearing, causing the once muddy path to becoming half-baked. Mabel had always loved the woods, and being constrained inside The Shack by the weather had no doubt contributed to her misery.

Now she could breathe in the fresh air, and bask in the morning light. And every now and then, she would reach down and lightly rub the brass medallion hanging around her neck. The shaped like a pinecone, and not very well polished. It was also a tad heavy and it smacked against her sweater as she darted from booth to booth. Still, Dipper had won it for her at the knock-over-the-milk-bottle game and Mabel loved the fact that he didn't take himself too seriously to play the game.

Dipper shook his head she led him towards the tent, "It's a con, Mabel. Besides, even if it wasn't, it's not like this guy is gonna be different from the ten thousand other magicians in the world." He glanced at the advertisement, a huge plaque which stood in front of the blue and white tent. It depicted a young child dressed in a blue gown, standing beside a multi-colored hexagon, with a top hat adorning his head. "He's just younger than most of them."

Mabel stopped in front of the tent entrance peering inside as she spoke. The music reached her ears, and she bobbed her head to it. "But it's been so long since I've been to a magician show!"

"That's because there for children Mabel."

She turned his way and tried to pout, putting her hands on her hips, but judging from his expression, the confectioner sugar on her lips made it difficult for him to take her seriously. "Aw cmon, you're supposed to be the Mulder in this relationship!"

He raised a brow and grinned as he shook his head. "Mabel…I'm pretty sure that you couldn't be empirical if you WANTED to."

She sighed, and stuck out her bottom lip, leaning on him with her eyes bugged and her hands clasped together. "Please, please, please, please-"

He sighed, and removed the money from his pocket with as much reluctance as possible. "Okay, okay. I just don't want us to waste the money Stan gave us."

She smirked as he caved, snatching up the cash and skipping into the tent entrance. "Well if we want any more cash we can just bother him again."

Returning with a couple of tickets, she ushered him inside and hummed to the song which played throughout the tent.

 **[ 0]**

Dipper splurged for one big bowl of popcorn, not anticipating how awkward it would be (for him) when their hands brushed together in the center of the bucket. Of course, that wasn't much of a problem, since his sister began eating before the show had even begun, and he contented himself with a piece of gum.

 _Just relax, everything will be fine as long as you-_

The light's dimmed and then the tent was flooded with darkness. Mabel giggled and made a spooky sound to his left. "Ooooh, this tent is run by ghoooosts!"

Dipper rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of popcorn. "The generator probably broke. I told you that this wouldn't be-"

Distant piano music began to play, almost causing him to jump. He really needed to get more sleep. This level of exhaustion was driving him a little paranoid.

His sister tickled him just below the arm. "Oooh! Spooooky!"

He couldn't help but giggle, even though people were already shushing the two of them.

Bulbs behind them switched on, illuminating the stage. Blue, then yellow, then red. As the lights convulsed, smoke rolled across the stage like fog invading a graveyard in a cheesy horror movie. Somewhere in the background, a drum's steady beat has added another layer to the atmosphere. Two search beams scanned the crowd, flashing across the sides of the tent.

The audience "ooohed," and "aaaahed," sounds as a result, and Dipper almost didn't hear the light chanting from backstage.

 _Does he have an entire choir back there?_

In combination with the drum beat, the chanting became deep and echoing. Somewhere else, a piano joined the mix, its player fiddling between a couple of keys to create a flickering rhythm which hung at a constant level of tension. The strangest thing was that he could swear that the chanting had existed since entering the tent, but only now he had recognized it. A giant wooden pentagram, with an eye in the center, was lowered just above the stage.

Glancing over at his sister, Dipper discovered that she was literally on the edge of her seat.

When he looked back, the blue, yellow, and red colors had converged on the pentagram and started to blink rhythmically. The drumbeat picked up, as did the chanting. It was now loud enough for Dipper to understand what it was they were saying.

 _"Welcome to the den of telepathy_

 _Where we will unwind your story."_

His skin crawled as the ambiance grew louder and the lights snapped faster and faster. Dipper had to admit that he had not expected this level of production value. It masterfully crafted an atmosphere and was almost intense in its denouement.

How were they making their money back on this? He wondered. There was no way they could sell enough tickets, let alone attract a big enough audience in a town as small as this one.

The drumbeat reached its pinnacle and the chanting stopped so violently that Dipper almost fell out of his seat. Mabel leaned towards him and whispered smugly. "I _told_ you it would be worth it."

Dipper didn't respond, his eyes still searching the dimly lit stage. There was movement, shadows dancing along the curtain. The rainbow lights began to fade, the drums returning but slowing to a nearly imperceptible crawl. Wire rose the wooden pentagram into the air and vanished it away into the heights of the tent, and the searchlights swept to the stage. The beams crossed paths upon the center of the stage and the curtains pulled a foot back.

A small boy resembling the poster outside stepped out and gave a shy smile. He looked thinner than the child on the poster, however, almost sickly so and something was a little bit off about his posture. Dipper had to admit that he had an impressive appearance for someone who was probably eight years of age. He sported an electric blue suit, with matching slacks and an ivory tie. A sapphire pendant hung from his neck, glinting like a gem at the bottom of a river. Strange enough, his hair was the most startling aspect of him. It was cut military style and grey-white in coloration. He gave the audience a nervous smile and adjusted his collar.

He fixed his silver eyes, no doubt made that way by contact lenses and removed a microphone. "WELCOME ONE AND ALL, TO THE TENT OF TELEPATHY! WHERE THE EYES ARE WIDE AND THE SMILES ARE WIDER!"

Dipper cocked his head, unsure of how they thought that phrase made a good slogan.

The boy gave a dashing grin and moved closer to the edge of the stage. He began speaking in a softer, more enticing voice. "I'd like to introduce maself. My name is Gideon Gleeful, and I am here to make your wildest dreams come true."

He finished off the insistence with a wink, and Dipper frowned as the tent was filled with clapping. The teen shifted in his seat and noticed that Mabel had her famous "it's so CUTE!" look on her face. Usually, he would roll his eyes and enjoy the ride.

But something about how disarming the little boy's voice and appearance was, something about the way he repeated that catchphrase. Like he knew more than he should.

"I'd like to welcome y'all to the show, via some of my best magic,"

Dipper could sense the excitement which grew with this sentence. _This guy must be really popular._ The teen was out of the loop in terms of most things which were trending,

"But first…a volunteer from the crowd!"

Hands shot up with the latest bout of a southern drawl, and Dipper gave Mabel a dubious look. "Really? You want to go up on stage so that he can perform a bunch of tricks and-"

She hushed him and stood atop the seat for a better chance at being spotted. Rolling his eyes at his sister's desire for attention, he took advantage of the situation and snagged a couple extra pieces of popcorn. Gideon quickly scanned the crowd, and Dipper could swear he saw the little magician's eyes light up when he spotted Mabel.

"YOU THERE YOUNG MISS!" He pointed at Mabel, and she grew a brilliant smile. "Yes you!" He moved to the edge of the stage, and Dipper noticed that his microphone had been expertly concealed. No matter how he inspected the boy's suit, he could not detect it.

"Yes you! How would _you_ like to help me with a little trick?" Mabel practically bounded over to the stage, and Dipper watched her with growing interest.

 _Well, this ought to be good._

Once the two stood on the stage, Gideon produced a microphone from seemingly nowhere and slipped it into Mabel's hands. If he hadn't known better, Dipper would have said that his hands lingered while touching hers. _Maybe he's just nervous,_ he rationalized, despite the gut feeling that something was wrong with this picture.

"Now why don't you tell all these nice folks just who you are?"

Mabel leaped at the chance and nearly asphyxiated from all her squealing. "My name is Mabel Pines, and I'm new to this town…so I um, I'm very happy to be here!"

She received a sea of applause, and Dipper glanced around at the people who clapped almost hypnotically. He couldn't sense the excitement in their voices or actions, just full understanding, and an eerie anticipation. They wore eager grins on faces with blank eyes and leaned forward in their seats. _What are they waiting for?_

"Excellent, simply marvelous. Now Miss Pines, if you would climb into this here device…"

He gestured to the metal chair that two grunting men wheeled out. Dipper sat up, concern by the level of openness which surrounded the "trick."

His sister sat down with a still beaming smile, the picture of innocence. She waved at Dipper as they tied her legs down with belts and clamped a metal cage upon her head. He waved back but felt a sickening feeling overcome him. Why were they restraining her? Why was nobody but him noticing how strange this was?

 _Something is wrong. Something about all of this is terribly wrong._

Gideon was handed a throwing knife by one of the two men and grinned as strolled over to Mabel. Turning to the audience, he showed the knife off, with the weapon now concealed from Mabel's now limited view.

"Tell me, dearest Mabel Pines, which...is your favorite eye?"

Her face skewed in confusion and she shrugged, "I don't know…my left one I guess. The right one needs a different prescription than the left, so when I wear by reading glasses, that one looks bigger than the first."

Dipper tried to move, unable to sit and watch this anymore. But something held him down. Some outside force had compromised his control of his body.

A numbness had crept over his arms and legs, uncompromising cold which clamped down and held him tightly to the seat. Had anyone been looking his way, he would have resembled a victim of quicksand, only finding himself in deeper trouble the harder he fought against a force beyond sight.

Dipper tried to yell at his fellow audience members, to alert someone of the but now the ice had spread to his throat. Breathing became labored while talking was rendered ear impossible. Still he struggled for syllables, refusing to sit by and anticipate the release of the dread. All he could do was move his head back and forth, and at best, look away as his sister was injured.

That was the closest mercy of the situation.

"Thank you, Miss Pines. That's a very cute story. Of course, being a psychic I deduced as much."

She giggled, not startled by the knife in his hand in the least. And why would she? He was just a little kid. On the outside. Dipper could see a frigid hunger behind those silver eyes. His sister was its prey. He had to call off the show, he had to make this shut down before she was hurt. He would make a fool of himself if he had to, but he could not-

Gideon returned his gaze to the audience. "And now, down to business…"

 _Too late_.

Gideon spun around and buried the knife up to the hilt in Mabel's eye.

As gasp ran through the crowd, as red began to stain the child's cuff. Blood. Too realistic to be anything else. Like fountain it sprayed with the initial incision, staining Gideon's pendant as well striking the stage. It oozed from the hole in her skull and clung to the golden handle of the dagger.

Gideon did a little bow to the audience and received applause. But that was not a hideous offense of this situation. Far from. The worst of all, there was no scream, no acknowledgment from Mabel. She kept smiling at the audience, ecstatic to be up on stage. Her untouched eye blinked perfectly as the blood oozed down the other side of her face and splattered against the stomach of her pink sweater.

Dipper felt ready to throw up but was unsure if the force which clutched his internal organs would even allow for that.

"Well done Miss Pines, you have stupefied us all." He said it with such revolting conceit that Dipper felt instant hatred for the small child.

But he wasn't a child. He couldn't be. Dipper was convinced that he knew about Dipper's sudden paralyzed state or was somehow responsible for it. Those eyes knew too much.

Gideon smirked and wiggled the knife back and forth, causing Mabel giggle, as though he were tickling her. The result was a wave of laughter and clapping from his audience. All except Dipper. He went pale with the giggle and felt his stomach lurch.

Swallowing became painful as his saliva turned thick and cold in his mouth. His tongue felt like a slug which had died in his mouth.

Gideon looked back at Mabel and spoke in a licentious tone. He drew his hand across her forehead, brushing stray hairs to the side. Strands which blood clung to, drew trails of red across her nose and cheeks. Again she giggled.

Placing his mouth over the top her head, he drew the scent into his nose and looked up. "She's pretty ain't she fellas? Even with blood all over her face, the rest of her is worth admirin'. After all, she doesn't need her eyes to _please_ a man, now does she?"

This comment received zealous applause, as well as a few loathsome whistles and hollers. The white haired boy soaked it up, an idiot's grin stretching across his face. His victim remained oblivious to the sexual harassment and jeers, only glancing back and forth with empty eyes, like a chicken too dumb to know that it was about to be butchered.

"Her _mouth_ is still fine, ain't it?" He took her jaw, opening it for her to show off her braces. Dipper had never wanted his sister to bite off someone's fingers before, but right now, he yearned for it more than anything else.

She didn't though, happy to oblige despite the disgusting sentiment he spewed about her. "I bet it works really well, even with the lack of experience. At her age, all her bits are untouched and ripe…"

Dipper knew that this couldn't be a trick, no one so young should be saying those things. He shouldn't be anywhere NEAR that level of sexual implication, let alone grotesque reverence. The petrification left the teen in a rush, and he bolted to a stand. He was ready to tackle the muscular assistants if they attempted to prevent him from reaching his indoctrinated sister. He was ready to charge onstage and be the knight in shining armor, the only sane person in a sanitarium.

But he could do nothing but stare as the tone of the spotlights moved stage right, and his sister strolled out. She stopped in the light and waved to the audience, completely unharmed. Her eyes twinkled with joy when she spotted him, each perfectly unharmed. She gave him a thumbs up; an innocent gesture which indicated total normalcy. That everything was fine and dandy.

Except it wasn't. It couldn't be.

Dipper looked back at the bloody body in the chair and gulped down a build-up of phlegm as he saw a sack mannequin which vaguely resembled Mabel. The blood which had been on Gideon and which had stained the stage moments before was nowhere to be seen.

 _No, that can't be right. That can't be right._ His brain stuttered in while attempting to perform its current primary function; convince him that he wasn't going

 _That does…this doesn't make any sense. How did he-_

How did this qualify as a family-friendly trick? The audience was eating it up and asking for seconds, with Gideon taking bow after bow, and eventually convincing Mabel to do likewise. She took his hand, as though he hadn't just

"Now give the little lady a round of applause everybody, she certainly is something now isn't she?" Mabel blushed under the adoration, and the two muscular men who Dipper had forgotten existed, carried her off the stage as she whooped and hollered.

 _This, this is all wrong…_ They set Mabel down in her seat, as Gideon began to read palms. She chuckled as he reached out to make sure that she still existed, and gave a light "boo" which actually scared him. "Yeesh Mabel…why did you let him say those things about you?" Her joy turned to bewilderment, "What do you mean?"  
"You know the stuff about…you being…well you know!"

She shook her head, "No I don't. Bro, I think you ate one too many pixie sticks…" Dipper felt his relief turn to desperation. _He couldn't have imagined that…could he? Was he really so tired that he could have dozed off and slept through the entire show?_ He had been especially tired recently, but not tired enough to downright hallucinate or fall asleep without knowing.

"But wasn't that trick kind of gruesome for a nine-year-old to be performing?!" She offered the popcorn, "What are you talking about? How was that trick 'gruesome'?"

His response caught in his throat, and she continued. "I'm not explaining how he made me disappear Dipper. It's not fun if you explain the

Dipper was ready to speak, driven so insane by the conflicting reality that he was ready to spit out everything he had experienced since she got on stage.

But that would require him to repeat those awful things about her, and he couldn't do that.

"You know what…It was probably my over active imagination…can we leave now?"

 _He had to get her out of here. NOW._

"But the show has barely started-"

Dipper grabbed her hand before another word could be said on the subject, and pulled her towards the exit. "Well it'll be sundown soon, we better get going if we want to go on the Ferris wheel."

Mabel glanced once at the child magician, before deciding to do as her brother wanted. He had, after all, paid for the tickets.

 **[ 0]**

A brief argument took place, in which Mabel pressed Dipper for answers and he chalked up his insistence to a "bad feeling." Eventually, she gave in, and the twins returned to their regular wandering. Mabel knew that Dipper was lying about why he wanted to leave the show but preferred to enjoy the rest of the day then make a big deal about it. Even if it did hurt that he hadn't been happy with the performance she just provided, Mabel was now used to her brother's mood swings.

half an hour more of wandering the grounds, the twins returned to their great uncle. He and McGucket were crouched beside the car, erecting a faulty dunking booth.

"Is it okay if we head back?" Dipper asked as Mabel leaned on him for support, regretting the quantity of cotton candy she had ingested and the speed at which she had done so.

The old man shrugged, "Suit yourself, but I ain't driving you back. The midday rush just arrived."

Mabel frowned but said nothing. Her legs were killing her, but arguing with Stan was about productive as attempting to talk a tree to dropping all its leaves at once. McGucket glanced up from his work, and then hurriedly averted his gaze. She gave him a pitiful smile, wondering if he had any family to enjoy the fair with.

 _Probably not_ , considering that he slept in the shed outside Stan's house. What had happened then? He never seemed bothered by children, and still wore a wedding ring. Contemplating the morbid possibilities made her feel sad, and so she looked

Turning away, Dipper glanced at the big wheel and steered her towards it. "C'mon, we'll rest our legs a bit and walk back after."

"Oh thank goodness," She gave her best impression of a southern belle, "I do declayr Mista Pines, I'm just abowt to cullapse of eggzaustion."

He chuckled. "Well, in that case, there's only one thing to do."

"Oh? And what might that be-EEE!" She squealed as he scooped her up and ran towards the ticket booth.

"The gentlemanly thing to do." He managed to get out between breaths.

She giggled at the redness of her brother's face as he struggled to support her. Although she was taller than him by an inch (and she didn't let him forget it), but was significantly thinner.

"Sis, you really got to lay off the cupcakes."

"Oh shut up! You're the one who doesn't watch his diet!"

Dipper pretended to become exasperated. "But _Mabel_ , according to the BMI chart, I'm underweight. I've got to eat more junk food if I ever want to be _normal._ "  
She rolled her eyes. "You are carrying your sister through a fair made for children. Dipper, the day that pigs fly is the day that you become normal."

His eyes caught something which she could not from her perspective, and he came to a halt. Slowly, he eased Mabel to her feet and she frowned.

"What's the matter?"

He was peering towards the tea cups ride which stood to the back right of the big wheel, or more specifically at the area between the two rides. Mabel glanced at his face and found that he had .

"I thought you hated that ride…" She said as she moved to his side.

Following his gaze, the brunette sighed when she noticed that Wendy and Robbie were hanging out behind the ride, probably smoking.

Mabel placed her hands on her hips, "Dipper…if you wanted to talk to Wendy, you could have just said so."

He blushed, and averted his eyes. "But this was supposed to be our special day…"

Mabel waved the concern aside, "We've had plenty of fun. Besides I know you aren't going to go into a five hour make out session…" He blushed even harder and she nudged his side with her elbow as she continued. "…because her extremely intimidating boyfriend is standing _right_ there."

He gave her an unimpressed look and she giggled in return, pushing him towards his crush. "Well hop to it! Ask if she wants a snack or something."

Dipper grinned and gave a "you are the best" look, before sprinting off to interact with his crush.

Mabel sighed as she watched him go, and the redhead of his affections wave to him. Wendy hadn't even noticed her. In fact, the two of them had

Since visiting the Dawn Till Dusk mall, Dipper had been resistant towards her coming adventuring with him. So he had roped Wendy into helping him investigate. Which was good. He was finally making friends.

And despite the pothead's dangerous and sometimes illegal practices, Mabel considered her a good influence on Dipper. He was happier when he had someone to talk to about his theories, and she got the feeling that without Wendy, he would have long ago gotten slugged for sticking his nose in other's business one too many times.

She still couldn't forgive the redhead, however.

It wasn't for monopolizing Dipper's time. The friendship which Wendy offered Dipper was more important than the loneliness which Mabel had encountered in the past week. It wasn't for endangering her and Dipper by taking them to that mall. They had entered willingly, and even if Mabel never again felt clean again in her own body, she knew that she would be partially responsible for the possession.

When she heard that the place might be cursed, she had not turned around and protected her brother. She had encouraged entering.

So no, it was not the nightmares which she had experienced following getting her own body back or the various bruises which she had inherited which she could not get past. Even for never apologizing.

It was flirting with her naïve brother. Wendy was older than him, and Mabel didn't care how immature she wanted to be, as long as it did not mess with her brother. The redhead was already in a relationship with a sociopath who was likely to take it out on Dipper, but did she care? No! Of course not. Because the world revolved around her.

And Mabel had to stand aside and wait for the inevitable heartbreak because she wanted to be a good sister. And good sisters don't tell you to wake up and realize that you are being played. That's not what good sisters or good people did.

Dipper had a hard enough time making friends, let alone speaking to girls. The last thing he needed was for some floozy to ruin his self-confidence.

Feeling like the scum of the earth, Mabel wondered how a day could go so downhill so quickly as she turned back towards the ticket booth.

In her moment of thought, she had failed to secure a position on the line. Now twice the amount of people were awaiting to buy tickets. The length did not, to say the least, improve the mood.

"This day just keeps getting better and better…" She mumbled as she stalked to the back of the line.

 _At least maybe now, Dipper can still share a car with me._ She thought as she stared at the texture of the Hawaiian shirt which the obese man in front of her wore.

"I might be able to improve your mood. It is so disheartening to see a pretty rose sour…"

She turned at the familiar voice and barely concealed a squeal upon seeing Lil' Gideon standing right next to her. "Ohmygodyou-I mean…you're here."

He looked amused by her fangirling and removed a small badge from his pocket. "You left quite the impression on me and everyone else back there Mabel."

She blushed and gave a modest smile. "Oh, you're just saying that."  
He shook his head fiercely. "Nonsense. You were one of the best guests I've ever had. Now…here; put this badge on and then everyone will make way for you."

Taking the badge, she stared at it in perplexity. Its supplier looked up expectantly, and she smiled while wondering if he was joking. It was a multicolored star, with a cute little eye symbol in the center.

The shape's relation dawned upon her. "Hey! It's just like the one on top of the Tent of Telepathy!"

He nodded at her observation and watched attentively as she pinned badge to her sweater.

As she did so, she noticed that there were two large men behind him. The same two who had helpers from the show. She almost didn't recognize them as they now wore black suits and sunglasses.

Mabel gave a small grin, one which went unreturned, before finishing clipping the needle. Gideon took her hand and pulled her straight through the line. She expected to be met with resistance. She expected that the sweaty mass of people might be resentful and would not be very helpful in getting the tow of them to the front of the line, but instead they all almost jumped back. She thought she saw fear in the collective eyes of the crowd, but decided that she must be mistaken.

Nevertheless, folks took one look at the two of them and made way. Several even took pictures. Gideon slipped some dollar bills to the ticket giver and handed a small pink slip of paper to the beaming Mabel.

"Wow, it's like royalty!"

Gideon nodded, "That's just the way it is in the entertainment business my'dear. Would you like a drink?"

He gestured to a nearby concession stand, but she shook her head and he led her up the steps. As they ascended, she noted that the two men behind Gideon had stopped. She glanced their way and got a glance at their stony gaze before her companion pulled her head towards the top of the stairs.

The man who took their tickets looked slightly disturbed, but Mabel shrugged it off as he being shy around the child star. The people of this town were generally rather strange, so she didn't find the stares and nervousness odd. It must just be her imagination, she decided. Her suspicion manifesting due to Dipper's paranoia and her own experiences with supernatural.

She needed to get rid of the foolish notion that something was wrong and just enjoy herself. After all, who would be afraid of Gideon?

As the machine began to partake in its gradual ascent, Gideon began mentioning how great life is, and how everyone everywhere loved him. Mabel nodded along, becoming more and more enamored with the concept of theater based fame. She had always wanted to travel the country, making new friends and performing for others. Piedmont wasn't a terribly interesting place, and even as a small child she had aspired of seeing new places and meeting new people.

"The only problem is that I haven't been able to find a female assistant who fits the show yet…" He glanced off into the distance, and Mabel tried to play it cool.

"Well uh…I umm, have some experience in magic…maybe I could be your assistant."

He raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

She nodded with a desperate attempt to not look so desperate.

He placed a hand to his jaw, mouth twisting in thought as he stared at the sky. "Well, the audience certainly did like you…and you are so…enchanting."

Mabel blushed again, and once more attempted to be modest. "Well, I don't know about _enchanting…_ "

He reached out, eyes wide with protest as he drew his hand across a strand of her hair. "Nonsense. You're the prettiest little flowa' in the whole damn town."

Mabel went a little pale and let out a nervous squeak. She pulled away, averting her eyes when a look of crushing disappointment filled his face. Instead, she kept her eyes upon the

She wasn't used to receiving compliments, only the occasional pervy whistle in the school halls. Still she wasn't so desperate for attention that she didn't feel uncomfortable receiving a nine-year-old's adulation. His compliment would have been cute not so beguiling.

"I-um-no one-I mean uh-"

He shook his head and smiled coyly. "No need to thank me, in fact, I should really be thanking you."

For some reason, his strange scent became more apparent, and the speed of the big wheel decreased drastically. "Thanking me? What for?"

He shrugged and kept his attention on his fingers, "I best not say, 'cause well, you might think that it's stupid…"

She slid closer, wondering what could make someone his age so somber, so quickly. "What? What's the matter?"

"There was but when everyone likes you, it's hard to tell who actually…you know…cares about ya'. Fame is tricky like that. I'd like to say my ma and pa do, but…they're always busy on some sort of vacation…"

He looked up, brightness developing in his eyes as he regarded her. "But now that I know you, I have someone close to my age. Someone who I can call friend…"

She gave a shy smile, her discomfort disappearing as her empathy took over. "…Yeah. I uh, sure, right, um…friend."

She extended a hand, wondering if this could become more awkward. But the look on his face when he saw the offered hand, it made it all worth. Yeah, he was a little rough around the edges, but he was too young to be that lonely. The

"Oh man, the world looks so beautiful from up here." She stared out as well, and her eyes widened.

Her feet ceased tapping up and down against the metal floor of in excitement as she stared across the valley. Although it had tried to kill her and her brother many times, she had to admit that the place looked beautiful at the moment. The setting sun was leaving beautiful orange streaks which highlighted the great bridge across the valley and edges of the mountains which surrounded like powerful guards. She could feel the wind brush against her, and see it cause trees to brush together. For a moment she wished that Dipper could be with her to enjoy the vantage point.

"How does fifty an houa' sound?"

She glanced down at him and shook her head. "Oh sorry, fifty what?" He smirked, "Fifty dollars my dear. How does that sound to start you out?" Glancing down, she realized that he had a clipboard in his hands, with a contract pinned to it. Realization struck, and she blushed lividly. "OH!"

Taking the pen, she smiled and began signing what he instructed her to. Her eyes grazed over the page, but she wasn't a big reader. Besides, half of the sentences and terms were nonsense in her mind. _Dipper would probably understand it, though._ She pulled back her pen and remembered how her parents had told her never to sign anything which she did not fully understand. Gideon scowled at the action.

"Whatever is the matter?"

She rubbed her arm, "I just…I should probably have my brother look at this first… I'm not good with legal stuff and all that."

He giggled and caught the direction which the gears in her mind were turning, "Mabel my dear, I'm not trying to con you. Besides, I don't think your brother would support the opportunity. He kept eyein' me during the show."

She frowned, but remembered how enthusiastic Dipper had been to leave, "Okay, I guess you're right…I just…"

"Well if you don't want to sign now, you could just come back tomorrow…I'll have interviewed a few more girls by then, that is. The standard business procedure I'm afraid..."

The mental picture of losing this opportunity sprinted through her mind, and she forced a smile. Shaking her head, and Mabel quickly applied her signature.

"No, no, that-that won't be necessary!"

He smiled and returned the contract into his coat. "Excellent."

The ride ended, and Gideon promised to give her a call about when she would start after she supplied him with her cellphone number. As she watched him approach a limo and realized that she was still wearing the badge he had given her.

"HEY! HEY!" He rolled down the window, and she noticed that there were a couple of large men in the backseat, both glaring at her. "You uh, forgot your badge!" She tried to hand it to him, but he refused with a generous smile. "Keep it, as a token of my esteem."

Then the limo was charging off into the forest, and she was left wondering just who the badge had been for in the first place.

 **[ 0]**

It was two days after the visit to the fair.

Dipper was halfway through his cold cereal, eyes scanning the 33rd page of the journal. Beside him his twin fooled around with some game on her phone, leaning back and forth on her chair. Stan flipped through the local news, enjoying the slow Saturday for what it was worth. Occasionally he would check his watch, as though he had some place to be.

When there was a pattering knock at the door, his uncle and sister spoke in unison, with differing levels of enthusiasm. _"Not it."_

Dipper glared at his uncle for the childish act. He knew Mabel well enough to not blame her, but the old man was supposed to be more mature. How had the scrooge been so adept at calling "Not it" anyway? He didn't _have_ siblings.

Sighing, the investigator stood and moved to the front of the house, giving them both the sideways stink eye as he passed through the hall.

He spoke in a morning droll as he drew the door open a crack. The town was filled with enough crazy sects, each boasting their own missionaries, that he had long since realized that allowing anyone to get a literal leg in the door was a mistake.

"The shop isn't open until half an hour from n-"

He stared down at Gideon and watched as the boy stuck a flower into his lapel. "Excuse me, but is Mabel Pines home on this fine morning?"

Dipper gaped at him. _How does he know where we live? WHY does he know where we live?_

Dipper realized quickly, that it didn't matter. He wanted the magician out. Off of the porch, and back to his tent of whatever-the-fuck-was-going-on, but away from him, and away from his sister.

The older of the two adolescents looked at the boy and grew pale when he spotted the helpers at the bottom of the stair.

Their muscles bulged in the overcast light of the morning, and their sneers indicated a propensity to hurt him. Badly. Dipper wasn't one for hyperbole but honestly believed that they could each wrestle a silverback gorilla and succeed.

His fingers tightened around the door edge as the image of these two men restraining Mabel, as this little freak tortured her, popped into his mind. _NO. Not here, not now. Not ever._

"Perhaps you could let me step inside?" The child's demeanor faltered slightly, his smile growing impatient. He knew exactly what Dipper was thinking.

Dipper scowled. He got the feeling that this kid was used to receiving whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. To damage that normality was all of a sudden impossibly alluring, and his fingers itched to slam the door. If not to protect himself and his sister, but just to see the look on the face of this brat.

Then his sister appeared behind him, and he got the sickening feeling of Déjà vu when she smiled.

"Oh hey Gideon, are we going to start training today?"

 _What?  
_ The gray-haired child nodded and pointed towards his limo. The one parked right in front of the porch steps, flagged by two monoliths of human flesh. She beamed, and promised to be back in a moment with her things. Dipper gave her a worried glance, but she was moving too fast to catch it.

"So…you are Mabel's brother, eh?" Dipper glared back at the squirt and nodded without relinquishing his gaze.

Gideon looked him up and down, "You don't have nearly as good a fashion sense as her."

Dipper concealed a snicker and smiled. "At least I don't look like an old midget."

Gideon's fists tightened, and Dipper spotted something decidedly disturbing in the youth's eyes. Something which frightened him greatly. It was the same coldness from the show. The power beyond reason and rule of nature.

"OKAY! I'm ready to go!" Mabel returned, and Dipper poked her shoulder, asking if they could talk before she left.

Mabel glanced at Gideon, who was checking his watch. "I mean, I guess...it won't take too long right?"

Dipper shook his head and closed the door behind them as they re-entered The Shack. "Mabel…I don't like the idea of you being around that kid."

Mabel rolled her eyes, "Right. Cause you think he's gonna turn out to be all evil."

Dipper tried not to give away that her statement was exactly what he had been thinking. She could tell regardless. "Dipper, he's just a little kid. Not everything is out to kill us."

 _But it IS. Trust No One, remember? Not even yourself…_

"Besides, he got me a great job! I can't just turn him down."

"Why not?"

"Dipper! You are being impossible!"

He glanced at the door and wiped his forehead, "Mabel, I'm serious. Something is really off about him, he seems…a little too smart."

Mabel sighed, "Dipper, you were smarter than him when you were that age."

Dipper shook his head, "No, I mean…he's…you know…not math-smart, just…conniving."

Mabel looked at her paranoid brother as though he had grown an extra head, and then at the door. With a sigh, she compromised, "Why you don't come with me, you can check out the tent and if there's nothing weird going on, then you have to promise that you are gonna leave him alone?"

Dipper didn't even consider. He immediately relented. "Okay."

As she reached for the door, he took her other hand in his and gave her a strong smile, one more relaxed than (sadly) his average ones. "Thanks for trusting me."

She nodded with a brace-filled grin and opened the door. Gideon looked up from his feet and resembled a dog begging for scraps. She bent to break the news, feeling a little awkward by how her skirt was frilling at the sides.

"Umm, there has been a slight change of plans…"

He frowned, and she sighed, eventually just sitting down on the floor of the porch. "See Dipper was hoping to come along with me…and see what we're going to be doing. He's…very protective."

"Almost obsessively I would say, my dear."

Dipper's nostrils flared, and Mabel raised a hand to prevent him from charging the child. "He just…really, really cares about me. Is it okay if he comes with? Just for today?"

Gideon made a big show of sighing but relinquished nonetheless.

 **[ 0]**

The car ride to the Tent of Telepathy was a tad awkward, but once they got three, excitement started almost immediately. Gideon pulled Mabel inside and almost instantly began introducing him to her new co-workers. There were dancers, strong men, shamans, acrobats, clowns, and tons of lighting managers on his payroll.

He took special time to introduce her to his agent, a woman named Miss Grey. The woman almost bumped into them, she was so tired, and Mabel had been unable to shake her hand due to how many records she had been carrying. Then he turned her towards the man who trained the dancers. A husky, bald man dressed in a sharp navy blue suit introduced himself as Richard Bergmann, and took her hand with his own crumpled, ring bearing one, before bending to kiss it.

She didn't have much time to talk with him or anyone else she was introduced to for that matter. And not just because of how quickly the nine-year-old at her side tugged her from attraction to attraction. They were all busy, all working on something or another. Gideon introduced her to people and set pieces so quickly, that Dipper had a hard time keeping up with the two of them.

The constantly swelling crowd didn't make it any easier. People were constantly pouring in, as apparently audience members were allowed to sit in the advancement of the show.

Still, he kept an eye on the creepy nine-year-old at all times, refusing to leave his sister alone with her for a large amount of time. Soon, though, his sister was swept up in what Gideon showed her, and wasn't even listening to him when he noted the amount of workers who were giving him death glares.

At the end of the practice session, Dipper had begun to wonder if he merely nodded off during Gideon's show and dreamt the entire sequence of gruesome events. It made more sense that his sleep-deprive brain had conjured a nightmare as result of his

Still, he asked if he could come back and watch them practice tomorrow. Even if he didn't trust his own eyes, he did trust his own judgment of character. It was what had allowed him to always know who was going to cause him trouble at school and avoid them like the plague.

Gideon gave him the look of an angered bull upon hearing his request, but Mabel was ecstatic that he was interested in her first job. Although he felt awful for lying to her, he refused to leave her alone in this place until he was absolutely sure. To keep Mabel happy, the white haired child had no choice but to agree.

 **[0]**

After all the legal documents were signed, Bergmann brought her into the back of the tent. There were several other dancers there, although all of them were older than her. He beat a small drum and told them to begin warm-ups.

Mabel lost herself in the trance, and it was over before she even knew it. When they moved on to choreography, the other girls left, apparently already knowing theirs. This left her all alone with the instructor, who was kind and patient if a little odd.

He told her that she moved fluidly, which surprised her. Mabel had always thought of herself as a bit of a klutz and a spaz, always twisting her ankle or spraining her arm. But with a little practice, she found that the more acrobatic and complex moments of the dance were not nearly as difficult to perform as expected.

On the second day, she learned to tumble and received applause from her fellow dancers. Gideon took her to the Greasy Ladle. Apparently he knew the waitress/owner and ordered a feast of grilled cheese sandwiches and BLT's for her and Dipper. Considering Stan's cooking, it was the first real meal they had eaten in weeks.

Even Dipper was grateful.

Throughout the next week, she became more and more excited about the upcoming show. She started sharing some ideas for tricks with Gideon, and he even put aside special time to hear and test them out. Although she had yet to be introduced to his parents, she once walked into a room and found him speaking fondly with someone. It put a smile on her face to know that at least he had a semi-healthy relationship with them.

Dipper eventually decided to come to the tent every other day, and Mabel felt good that he was finally starting to trust her. Before she knew it, it was the big day of her first performance, and she couldn't wait to put on a show.

When Gideon showed Mabel her costume, however, her excitement doubled.  
It was a blue silk jacket with a matching skirt, and black tights. It came with a pair of glittery blue pumps and a couple of amethyst earrings. Out of all of it, though, the thing which really made her feel like a different person, was the pendant which came with the costume. The sides of the pendant were silver while lying in the center was massive pink morganite, processed to perfection. It was an inch across and sparkled in the backstage light.

Just staring at it filled her with a happy ache which she couldn't quite explain. It made her want to sit down. But when Gideon told her that she could keep the pendant as a token of his esteem, she nearly fainted.

"R-Really?"

He nodded, happy at being able to bring such joy to her. "You don't have to keep it if you don't want it. I have others, rubies, emeralds…"

Neither of her parents worked very well paying jobs, and she had ever held a piece of jewelry this beautiful. She had others, in the school halls sporting earrings and necklaces that weren't plastic and silly, but real and valuable, and had wondered if she would ever own something that nice.

Finally, after putting on the entire get-up and her dressing room assistant finished with her make-up, Mabel got a good look at herself.

She was stunned to silence. There looking back at her, was not the goofy girl who kept stickers on her face, the girl who still held hands with her brother. The girl who gave valentines to everybody in her class, but received none in return, had left the building.

In her place stood a beautiful and mature young woman, the kind that left people speechless. The kind of girl that every other girl was jealous of. Her hair looked shiny and beautiful, with the tangles combed out. Her eyes looked brighter than she had ever anticipated.

Gideon became distressed when she almost started to cry, but she waved his concern aside. "Thank you, so, so much."

He took her hands, and led her out of the dressing room, and towards the stage. "Let's go put on a great show, hmm?"

Nodding, Mabel brushed her eyes and blushed for her emotional disposition. Having to be comforted by a nine-year-old really was pathetic. None of that mattered, though. She was a different person today, and she was going to impress them all.

 **[0]**

Dipper removed his ticket from inside The Journal and shut off his laptop. Glancing at the watch he had received for his fifteenth birthday, he smiled. Still plenty of time to catch the show.

Dipper usually hated being proved wrong, but this time, he was ecstatic that Gideon and his fellow workers had not turned out to have sinister intentions. He had spent the last two weeks researching the boy and his traveling act and hadn't been able to uncover anything suspicious. That meant that Mabel finally got what she wanted and needed.

Some time away from the danger which he dredged up. Although Dipper refused to call home, to ever admit that he might not have control over the situation, there was an inkling in the back of his head which told him that he required safe guards galore. Being possessed had torn his sister up inside, it's why he had been searching so hard for some mystical remedy to the temporal displacement.

Performing would really lighten her mood. Not to mention, that Dipper's paranoia had forced him to spend a little more time with her, and no matter how painful that might be for him, it was good for her.

He waved to Wendy as he strode out the door, and she returned it with a bright smile. Things were looking up. He was getting close to finding the herb which would make his sister's PTSD disappear.

Everything was looking up.

 **[0]**

Mabel grinned, watching as the audience gasped when the buzz saw went all the way through the box and she remained unharmed.

Gideon smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen, it appears that my assistant can't keep herself together..."

There was a burst of laughter, and Mabel soaked it in.

 **[0]**

Dipper reached the bottom of the Shack stairs, and a hand grabbed his shoulder. He tore himself out of the grip and prepared for a fist fight.

Tobias held up his arms, backing away. "It's just me kid!"

Dipper glared. "Didn't I tell you that I didn't want you coming anywhere near here?"

"I know the kid, but I f-finally got th-those newspaper clippings that you wanted." The short and rather a squalid individual removed the after for mentioned clippings from his bag and offered them.

Dipper glared at him. "Your three days late… _buddy_."

The two of them had met at the local diner, with Tobias asking Dipper about all his notes if he was doing it for school or for similar reasons. Dipper had explained that no, he just liked researching mysterious activity. Tobias had asked to sit in his booth, and Dipper, alone that day thanks to Wendy's refusal to work weekends and Mabel's ho committed Mabel was to rehearsal, had allowed him to do so.

Although Dipper considered his "partner" to be rather vile in his worldview, and hygiene, the results did not lie. Tobias could find information that other people wouldn't consider looking for. The informant claimed to have his own section in the town newspaper, but had been fired a couple years ago because he was too "politically incorrect."

He was shorter than Dipper and considerably less clean. He wore a fedora, as though he existed in some 1940's hardboiled thriller. Dipper supposed that the hat was to account for the man's balding, just as the baggy clothing accounted for his more than generous girth.

"Ah c'mon kid, this was real hard. I had to dig real deep, I had to negotiate with some unsavory characters."  
"Toby, you ARE an unsavory character," Dipper noted as he flipped through the information provided. The happy feeling from a few moments ago was now falling at a disturbing rate.

"Stop giving me such a tough time kid." The ex-pundit insisted as he removed a joint and jabbed it between his teeth.

His lighter sparked and fizzled, failing miserably the first couple of times, before managing to light the tip. He offered one to Dipper, but the teen refused, just as he had done multiple times with Wendy.

Tobias shrugged and cupped his relief. Dipper didn't know how many drugs Tobias did, but he was fairly sure that marijuana was the least egregious abuse of the body. "Sides, I'm sure that whoever this guy is, I'm pretty sure that he is connected to the Powers That Be. This is pretty dark stuff. Re-writing names, changing dates, it's practically Orwellian."  
Dipper yanked the papers from his contact and flipped through the clippings. He addressed the shorter investigator without looking up. "Toby, you better not start spewing that anti-Semitic bullshit. Remember last time."

The slimy man ran a hand across his jaw. "You know, you didn't need to punch me last time. I never meant for you to take offense."

"Yeah, well, my great, great grandmother died in Auschwitz, so I couldn't really let you mumble that toxic garbage any longer…is this all you have?" He looked up, displeased with the scraps of vague information.

Tobias shook his head and dug into his rucksack. "There was one more, something about a missing girl…ah, here we go!"  
He handed it over as though the contents of the paper were not morbid in nature and implication. Dipper snapped it from his grip and refused to the look the pathetic man in the eyes. His eyes scanned the page for anything which might indicate cause for concern. It didn't take long for him to find it.

"T-Toby?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I'm sorry, but I will have to give you your uh…payment later. Right now I need to get somewhere quick." Dipper folded the clipping, and darted up the staircase, unresponsive to every one of his informant's complaints.

He opened the door and asked that Wendy give the piece of paper to Mabel next time that they saw each other. If something happened to him, it was crucial that she find this evidence.

Then he turned and rushed back out the door. Toby hounded him as he broke into a light jog towards the fair, but Dipper finally told the man to grow a pair and wait for his next dosage. Looking crushed, the informant could do nothing but stutter and watch as Dipper disappeared amidst the trees.

Dipper hated to deal with Toby almost as much as he hated collecting the hallucinogenic mushrooms which the idiot was too afraid of the woods to pick himself. But he needed the information which the conspiracy nut could provide, even if it was usually half-baked and bias as hell. He couldn't have falsified this information, however, and it seemed that their partnership had finally paid off because the information given was going to help him save Mabel's life.

 **[0]**

Mabel fanned her face, feeling rather tired and warm from the past three tricks. Again her vision swooped across the audience, in an attempt to locate her brother. And again she found that he was nowhere to be seen.

Gideon offered his hand, and she took it without reflection. The two of them bowed three times for the crowd as applause filled the tent.

He leaned to half whisper in her direction. "You did a wonderful job darling."

She briefly glanced down and gave him a heart-winning a smile. "I learned from the best."

 **[0]**

Dipper sprinted through the fairgrounds. All the attractions, aside from Gideon's, had packed up and left. The ground was slick with mud, and he had to slow to a jogging pace, not just to accommodate his heart, but to prevent from slipping.

Just as he made it to the entry way, two massive men stepped out of the tent. The same two guys from before.

Dipper stared at them in terror, wondering just how fast they would be able to move if he started running. But he couldn't run. Mabel was inside the tent, probably in mortal danger.

"Guys, I just want to talk to my sister…" He backed up a few feet when the silent brutes began moving towards him.

People began to exit the tent, and Dipper used the distraction to dart around the side of one of the enforcer. He zigzagged between the crowd, all laughing and cheering, completely ignorant to the methods of their host. He broke through the flap, not bothering to do much more than flick his ticket onto the desk, and dart into the viewing room.

The stage was bare, people were picking up props and set pieces, and moving around backstage. He had to stop it. He had to stop it from happening to her. The teen vaulted onto the stage, ignoring the cries that this was for employees only. He broke through the curtains and heard the voice of the person who was absolutely NOT what he appeared to be.

"There, there darling. I'm sure that he meant to come. He just got wrapped up in his research, you know the way with folks like him."

"It's just…it's just like when my dad didn't show up to my recital…I don't know why I'm so surprised."

"Ah, don't feel too bad, it's not your fault. It's his."

Dipper practically growled, before letting out a half scream half shout. "MABEL! MABEL! IT'S ME!" The shadows of the two he followed ceased their movement, and as he rounded the corner, the image of Mabel stunned him.

His mouth became agape and the trepidation which had brought him here became briefly less urgent. She was gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. He had never seen any girl look this incredible.

"M-Mabel…he…he isn't-"

It was as he said this, a man carrying a metal pipe knocked into him, and Dipper stumbled forwards. Just as he recovered balance the man lost control of the pipe. It swung down, striking Dipper on the temple and the pinning his arm to the floor.

He fell unconscious almost immediately, but the moments before that felt excruciating. There was a strange ringing in his ears, a constant buzz of pain. Then the lights and shadows of the room started to blur. The world had been turned to slow motion, and the voices of his sister and the psychotic twerp became distorted and impossible to understand.

Then Mabel was bending over, holding his face and struggling to remove the metal bar. He glanced at his arm, and had he been in a better mental state, he would have known that it was not supposed to be at that angle.

Tears blurred his eyes, and his throat grew sore from shrieks which he hadn't even realized he'd been making. He took one last look at her and noticed the devil over her shoulder. The white haired boy was practically giddy; true alacrity did not suit his features as much as his fake smiles did.

Then the world grew black and Dipper wondered with his last bit of consciousness if he would ever wake up.

 **[0]**

Mabel heaved and pushed, but the metal bar refused to budge. She was reduced to watching as he writhed with the pain, like a live bug which had been pinned to an insect display case. Finally, his eyes closed and the pain ceased. But that was scarier. The thrashing designated that there was still life inside of him. At the moment, she was peeled over her brother, unsure if he was dead or alive.

Instantly, Gideon had instructed two workers to help, including the one responsible for dropping the bar, and Miss Blue rushed off to call an ambulance showed up as though it had been waiting just around the bend in the road.

As soon as he had finished removing the bar, Mabel shoved the man responsible for her brother's pain. Her tears had turned hot, and her hands had turned into fists. The man was bald, on the chubby side, and had small eyes. The look in his eyes reflected rage inducing apathy.

"Do you realize what you just did?! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU DID TO MY BROTHER?!" He remained silent, as though in some other place entirely. Mabel screamed and grabbed the collar of his coat, pulling him down to her level. "YOU DON'T DO YOU!? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF SOMEONE DROPPED A TREE ON YOU? OR SMASHED A HAMMER INTO THE SIDE OF YOUR SKULL?! WOULD YOU? WOULD YOU LIKE IT THEN?! WOULD YOU?!"

Mabel rarely ever got angry. When she did, it usually came in the form of slight annoyance. The only time when she had ever felt this animal, this ready to commit an act of violence, was when a girl had stuck gum in her hair back in first grade. Mabel had flipped out, first crying and then jumping onto the girl. Dipper had been forced to drag his sister off of the poor girl, who lost a tooth as a result of Mabel's assault.

But this time, Dipper wasn't able to stop her. To prevent the bloodshed.

Thankfully someone else was. Gideon took her hand and dragged her away from the man. Her shrieking had left him wide eyed and terrified of the teenage girl half his size. Mabel could feel her throat filling with phlegm, and her stomach rising with bile. She needed to calm down. She was no good to dipper like this.

The paramedics had arrived, although they had to rush through the crowds of people who were stunned into rubbernecking by Dipper and Mable's collecting cries. She begged them to be able to stay in the ambulance with him, but they would not allow it. Judging from the looks on the faces of the crowd, they may have considered her responsible for the mutilation. Just thinking that made her feel awful.

Moments before the accident she had been complaining about her brother when all the time he had been on his way. She sat down on a tuft of grass outside the tent and held her head, wondering when she would wake up from this nightmare.

Gideon brought her back inside, one of his assistants helping her undress, for her pathos had led to the sluggishness of the highest degree. When she exited the room, now in her normal clothing, Bergmann told her that he was keeping her brother in his prayers. She thanked him and exited the tent to find that Gideon had called his limousine.

As they drove to the hospital, he took her hands in his and told her innumerable times that Dipper would be alright. That she would be alright. For some reason, she wasn't comforted.

When they finally made it there, she had to practically scream to attract the attention of someone who would bring her to his room. Although the panic of not being able to see him wore on her, she almost wished that she had not entered his room when she caught sight of her.

He lay motionless but for the rise and fall of his chest. At least he was alive, although he looked more dead than alive with the multitude of bandages which encircled his more bruised spots.

A mummy, a corpse done up in bandages as though that might protect him from the demons of inevitability. That's why wasn't one of the silly mummies which he and her used to make fun of on Halloween. Dipper didn't resemble the intense but cheesy performances of Boris Karloff look-a-likes, which he loved so much.

This was a scary mummy. With the blood still following as his chest rose and fall in a monstrous fashion. It hadn't been completed. They hadn't scavenged the organs yet or sealed him away where no one would get to him.

Every moment staring at him felt like torture. She knew that now was not the time to lose control of herself. Yet with every passing second, she could do little but worry that he would open his eyes and, in a voice which was not her brother's, promise that she would pay for his maiming. That it would bring her down into the tunnels, and she would learn what real sleep felt like.

Mabel had to sit down. The guilt was too much, and the hospital lights were giving her a headache. She couldn't remember when she had last ate, as she had skipped breakfast to get to practice early. Still she did not leave the room.

If she were somewhere else when he stopped breathing, she would never forgive herself. A machine stood ready to chronicle the teen's final heartbeats, and with each beep, she became more and more a slave of paranoia. It's relentless beeping reminded her of a reconstruction more than a recovery, though.

What if the doctors came in, and saved Dipper, but only by removing everything which made the teen himself. What if there was internal bleeding, and they had to amputate his arm. In her mind's eye, a mob of faceless surgeons bent over his body, all standing in a pool of her brother's blood as they lobbed off bits.

And what would they replace all those missing bits with? Cogs, gears, and rivets, not to mention a river's worth of electrical wire. He wouldn't be a tidy corpse, but an example of the wonders of modern medicine.

Her parents would never be able to afford treatment or painkiller prescriptions, and it would be her fault for wishing him alive, for creating a creature which begged for its own body to die, almost as much as it longed for hers.

This somehow a nightmare was somehow worse than the one where she wore black and he wore the fancy suit which their mother had frequently wanted him to but he never had. The one where they lowered him six feet deep and some guy in a robe who Dipper hadn't believed in, would say a few words in an attempt to sew up the emotional laceration in her side.

As one side of her brain prayed that doctors would return to her brother, and another worried that one might enter any minute, she drifted further and further into sleep. Her sleep only resulted in a brief vision of her brother being run over by a truck, and worse, her pushing him into the way.

Unable to return to the realm of rest, she stood and moved to his side.

Blood had pooled against the cloth wrappings which kept the gash in his skull hidden from sight and now dried against the bindings. She wondered what she was going to tell Stan, let alone her parents.

It was her fault; there was no avoiding that. They would tell her that it wasn't because none of them wanted to be "that person." But it would be her doing, her murder, regardless of what pity their deceitful tongues disgorged upon her useless form.

All the muscles in her legs became useless as she got closer and closer. Eventually, she fell to her knees, crying into the sheets. They were robin egg blue, not white like she had always assumed sheets were. Looking up with tears in her eyes, she noticed another insignificant detail. His trademark hat must have fallen off in the commotion, and she had forgotten it. It was a strange thing to focus upon, but she knew that human beings often did this.

Focus always drifted to the most senseless subjects when confronted with even the possibility of loss. Mabel's grandmother had obsessed over her granddaughter's hair while her husband lay on his deathbed. Although at least she had frequent spells of Alzheimer's. Mabel didn't have an excuse.

But she didn't want to think about him dead. About whether or not she would give a eulogy. About whether or not he would be too mangled for an open coffin service. She didn't want to think about any of it, because for as long as the fifteen-year-old, Dipper had existed.

When she had gotten lost in the woods, Dipper had led them both back home. When other girls said that she was stupid and wild, Dipper had made sure that they never called her names again. When her body had started changing, and she had worried about not being thin/beautiful enough, Dipper had assured her that she was the prettiest girl in the world and that one day guys would line up around the block just to offer her flowers.

And how did she repay him? How did she show that she was grateful?

Gideon came in. He got on his knees and apologizes wholeheartedly for the mistake. He promised to pay for all medical expenses, and would fire the man responsible for the accident. He brought her hot chocolate and a fresh pair of clothes. One glance at the clock informed her that she had been alone with Dipper's body, infected with these gruesome musings for far too long.

 _Why hasn't someone come? Shouldn't there be nurses looking over him? Where had everyone gone?_

Gideon coaxed her back into his limousine and insisted on driving her home. He had to help her stumble inside for how much her muscles yearned to cease moving. Gideon pulled a blanket over her, and the last thing she remembered before falling asleep in Stan's armchair, was him telling her to have sweet dreams and kissing her on the cheek.

 **[ 0]**

She woke up in the early morning hours from a yet another nightmare.

She had been at the bottom of a cliff, watching as Dipper dangled above in a cage. Over and over again she had attempted to scale the slope. And over and over again she had slid back down, forced to do nothing but watch as crows landed on the edge and picked at her dangling brother.

The scavengers tittered at her every failure, but not in the obnoxious squawks which she had come to associate with such birds. Instead, they laughed with high-pitched, menacing chortles, ones which batted about in the air and rang inside her skull. They stared at her with sickly yellow eyes, they reptilian pupils the gates to the black hell which they had come from.

Still, she wasn't particularly happy to be awake. Her throat was filled with phlegm, and her head ached like hell. Bringing a hand to her forehead, she found that she had become sweaty and hot to the touch.

The juices in her stomach bubbled like a cauldron filled with rotting ingredients while her mouth and throat seethed. Shivers and aches ran down her, and her legs nearly gave in when she got to a stand.

She stuffed up her nose with tissues and tried to find tea bags. In her search, she discovered that a note had been pinned to the fridge. "STAN: ON A BUSINESS TRIP. BE BACK IN TWO DAYS. DON'T BURN THE HOUSE DOWN WHILE I'M GONE."

Sighing, she tore it off and dropped it in the garbage. As the water began to boil, she realized that with Stan unaware, her parents had still not been contacted.

It took her a minute to find her phone, and as she did, the teen realized that she was still wearing her costume. Removing the gemstone from around her neck, which suddenly seemed to belabor her breathing, she returned to the kitchen as the whistling became too much for her to stand.

As the water pooled she felt the cellphone grow heavy in her hand. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to tell that she had let this happen?

Collapsing into a chair, she stared at the phone as she cradled the cup. She couldn't chicken out. Dipper would never do that for her, and she needed to act like an adult. He was relying on her to be the adult this time.

She diale2d the number which she had a million times and brought the pink phone to her ear. The dial tone was excruciating, and she felt ready to toss the phone at the wall if her parents didn't pick up. However, when a voice finally broke the tension, it brought confusion not some sense of dread.

 _"I'm sorry; the number you have reached is not in service, or temporarily disconnected. The number you have reached is not in service at this time. This is a recording."_

Mabel lowered the phone and stared at the kitchen wall. Before even considering dialing again, a fist pelted the door, causing her to jump.

Like a castaway forcing themselves ashore, she forced herself to her feet and gradually made her way to the door. Gripping the handle, she felt her arm wrench in pain as she opened it, and stared out to see the last person she expected.

"Wendy…it's the weekend…what are you-?"

The older teen was half soaked, wearing a jacket and missing her trappers-cap. She looked surprised at Mabel being the one to open the door. "Oh, Dipper ran off yesterday. He looked really worried, so I figured I'd check up on him."

Mabel nodded stoically but didn't move to offer the girl inside. It was raining out there, and in her buzzing mind, the rain would come in with her. Part of her tugged to welcome the girl inside, but Mabel felt too tired to speak with anyone, let alone speak with the redhead.

"He's at the hospital. He was in an accident."

"Oh, my god, is he alright?"

 _He was in an accident, what do you think?_ "His arm is broken and he had a concussion."

"Oh my god," Wendy said, drawing a hand to her face.

Mabel moved to the side finally, accepting that there would be no way around the brief conversation. "Does-Does Stan know?"

Mabel shook her head. "He left for some kind of business trip. No idea why…since he works a souvenir shop."

At a later point, Mabel would think back to this conversation, and become sure that guilt crossed the redhead's face. "Oh man…do you want me to stay with you?"

Mabe shook her head. "No…no thank you. I-I'd actually be more grateful if you could check up on him for me."

Wendy nodded, "Okay, give me your phone number and I'll call you when I do."

Mabel offered her phone for Wendy to type the number down from. "Just so you know, it may not work. I wasn't able to call my parents earlier."

The redhead handed back the cellphone and stopped halfway through turning away. "Wait a second, umm, Dipper said to give this-" She dug through her knapsack and removed a letter, handing it to Mabel. "-in case that anything happened."

Mabel stared at the letter in surprise and took it with shaky hands. "Yeesh. That just gives me the creeps. Do you think he knew that someone had it out for him?" Wendy asked.

Mabel did respond, she was too busy staring at the first of the five pages which filled the envelope. Wendy shrugged. "Well…I'll keep an eye out for any suspicious characters."

The brunette nodded, her eyes still glued to the page. As Wendy headed out the door she called one last time. "I'll tell Stan what happened in case I run into him."

Then the door closed, and Mabel was left shaking in terror.

Inside the envelope lay two newspaper's clippings, the smaller of the two pinned to the first via a hairpin. The larger of the two clippings had been printed in 1957 and originated somewhere in Iowa. In the corner of it, was a picture of the seventeen-year-old girl who the article was about. She had been hired as the assistant of the traveling child magician, Ernest Starr, and had gone missing two days earlier. Most disturbing about the article was the picture of the girl in the right-hand corner. She looked just like Mabel, only a little thinner with shorter hair.

Then she looked at the second article, and her heart sunk. This one noted how the female assistant to a child Evangelist had gone missing. She too resembled Mabel, same colored hair, eyes, and face structure. But the photo beneath her was far more disturbing. It depicted Gideon. Not someone who looked like Gideon, just Gideon. The only difference between the photo and the real thing was that his haircut was different.

The second newspaper clipping was from 1978.

 _No. No, this couldn't be true. It couldn't. There had to be a mistake._

But there wasn't. Dipper had been right from the very beginning, and by trusting Gideon, she had put him in danger. Her brother was lucky to be alive.

There was a loud banging at the door, and Mabel knocked her tea over she was so startled. It spilled across her costume, and she was unable to conceal a squeal when the liquid scalded her stomach.

An all too familiar voice broke the silence as she tried to mop up the mess and find a place in the overfull sink to place the mug. "Mabel darling? Are you alright?"

Mabel wiped her eyes, tears brought from the combination of guilt and pain. She was unable to stop shaking.

"Maybelle?"

She remained perfectly still, resistant to allowing herself anywhere near the monster outside the door. Again there was a banging at the door. One of his assistants was probably knocking for him. If it kept on this way, they would break the door down.

Her hope that they might assume she wasn't home, disappeared when she heard what he said next. "Maybelle, I know that you are in there. I can _see_ you."

Mabel glanced around trying to detect some form of surveillance. But there was none. As far as she knew, he had never even been in this part of the house.

"C'mon Maybelle, don't be a chicken. You know the old saying, _the show must go on."_

As he said this, the entire kitchen rippled with unbridled energy. Glasses fell and broke against the shuffling floorboards. The chandelier swung back and forth, coming dangerously close to snapping off of its chain nad smashing through the window. The tea cup she had just picked up, rattled off of the table and sent bits of glass flying everywhere when it broke right beside her.

A gurgling sound, the kind one might associate with an amphibious monster, filled the room as the pipes began to clog and quake. All the lights in the house fizzled on and off, Mabel clutching her ears as the sound of sparking electricity filled the air. The air grew hot as the wallpaper began to tear loose and roll down in taffy-esque strips.

"OKAY! I'll come, just make this stop!"

Silence returned, as the psychic energy which had invaded the room and household moments before, now vacated the area. Mabel gripped the table, forced to use it as support or face falling over for how unsteady her legs were.

She made it to the front door by taking deep breaths, and telling herself that the situation was not as hopeless as it seemed. She eased the door open and found him grinning up at her. His face was gaunt, his eyes brighter than normal. Despite the crackling energy behind each pupil and his turpitude of his grin, he looked half-exhausted. He clutched the pendant with his right hand, and she realized that whatever he had just done, it must have been extremely tiring.

"I told you…that I…would check up on you."

On either side of him were his favorite bodyguards, each refusing to look in Mabel's direction? Mabel glanced between them and then back at him. There was no point in trying to feign ignorance.

"How did you know in here?"

Gideon snorted. "Well ah wouldn't be much of a magician if I couldn't manage a little clairvoyance."

She scowled. "Oh, so you knew I would be here, but you didn't know that Dipper was going to be hurt."

"Stop this foolishness darling, we've got a show to do…"

She began to inch from the door, remembering the stash of guns which Stan kept in his basement. If she could reach them, she might be able to defend herself.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She maintained eye contact as she said this, and for a moment, he looked ready to pop.

Then Gideon folded his arms and took a deep breath. His rage faded and he reached out a hand to prevent his guards from breaking inside and grabbing the object of his obsession. "You signed a contract Mabel. You made a commitment. Everyone at the tent is relying on you showing up. And I'm sure your brother is relying on you showing up as well."

She choked on nothing. His grin returned and he continued, paying attention to his nails as though Dipper's life held no intrinsic value. "If you didn't…why he might be devastated. In his fragile condition, anything could send him over the edge and into the great beyond."

Mabel's eyes narrowed and she realized that if she kicked Gideon in the stomach hard enough, he would probably go rolling down the staircase. His neck would snap, most likely. Otherwise, he would at least sustain internal bleeding and rib trauma.

"Fine."

He giggled and offered his arm. She took it without hesitation, but her flesh crawled at his touch. It was like standing next to a giant spider, one whose hairs brushed against your skin and reminded you of how m any victims had died in its web.

Mabel had only just locked her seatbelt when she realized that she hadn't had a chance to change her clothes. The limo was already moving, however, and it was far too late for her to do something other than sit there and pretend that she was not complying with a lunatic.

"How old are you, really?"

He brushed the question off. "Older than the snake oil salesman that you call a great uncle, let's put it _that_ way."

"And in that time…" God, how could she phrase something so repulsive? "…how many…girls…have you…"

He giggled again, a sound which she was quickly growing sick of. "Oh, dozens. There have always been pretty girls who wanted to be a _star_ and were willing to sacrifice something for it. Of course, none of the pretty girls were smart and talented of you…" He reached out, drawing his hand down a lock of her hair. It took all the self-control which Mabel boasted not to punch him right then and there.

"And why do you…make them disappear?" She noticed that his bodyguards were bothered by their conversation. Perhaps they enjoyed willful ignorance as to the true nature of their duties.

"Well, they outlive their usefulness. There's only so much time before the magic, the belief runs out. Sooner or later people get sick of the same pretty girl, they want a new one. So the fantasy is enacted, the pretty face gets cut up so that it can be replaced. I don't kill them, the audience does. I just bury the body. Except when they become aware to the enchantment."

She shifted to tug away from his hand and stared out the window as she admitted ignorance. Perhaps Dipper would understand the truth of the situation. But she was not him, and every answer he gave made her more and more confused.

"I don't understand."

He chuckled, and the sound of a lighter flicking to life drew her attention. She glanced his way and found that he had a pipe between his teeth. "Oh, you will. You will, _very soon._ "

 **[0]**

When they got to The Tent, Gideon told her that she would have to pay for ruining the costume she was currently wearing, but that they would supply another for her. As Gideon's helpers fixed her make-up and hair, she noticed how soulless their eyes were. Had they always looked that way? How could she be so oblivious to their misery?

Were they aware of what they were a part of? Had they chosen this job and now regretted it? Or had they been intimidated into becoming one with Gideon's entourage?

Again she was shocked by her appearance in the mirror, although this time in a more negative fashion.

For a moment, she simply stared at the costume in mortification. It was appropriate to wear only for a prostitute, with a hole in the chest area to display the wearer's cleavage. The skirt was practically non-existent, with fishnet stockings the only real thing to cover her legs. The heels were quite an inch taller than the previous ones had been.

Sighing, she wondered why she had expected more from the person who had almost killed her brother and was currently forcing her to do this. She stepped out of the dressing room, finding it difficult to walk. Gideon snickered when he saw her.

"You're not used to dressing in an attractive fashion, are you?"

The urge to kick his little face grew inside her, especially with the knowledge that these heels would do serious damage. He offered his hand, still holding back laughter.

She pulled her hand away. "How do I know you're not going to kill me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Mabel, Darling, I have no reason to cause you distress. You're the star of the show. You're what everyone has their eyes on. The magic doesn't work if I don't have you out there."  
"You mean someone _like_ me."

Again his mood changed at a startling rate. "You should feel honored whore. I could have picked any girl in that audience…but I chose you." He bared his teeth, eyes glowing. "Now get out there," he jerked a thumb in the direction of the velvet curtains. "Or I'll make sure that what happened to your brother is going to look like a flesh wound."

She looked away, unwilling to enrage him any further. Mabel also had no intention of looking into those eyes any longer. They were older than anything else she knew of. Piercing and beyond reason. They demanded everything and would destroy anyone who proved inefficient.

Gripping the curtains, she steadied herself and took a deep breath. _This is for Dipper. Wendy is going to help you kick this little bastard's ass. All you have to do is get through this._

She stepped out and gave her best smile. The audience didn't care for ingenuity however, she could tell that from their blank expressions. They were looking for blood. It's why they had already forgotten about the accident from yesterday. They were in a trance, slaves to whatever it was Gideon offered them.

"I'd like to introduce maself. My name is Gideon Gleeful, and I am here to make your wildest dreams come true. And this wonderful thing beside me, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the magnificent, the beautiful, and the ingenious MABEL PINES!"

Mabel gave a quick curtsey although, with the skirt provided, it was far more awkward than last time. The audience gave more polite clapping, but she could see that they were on the edge of their seats for something violent. They all wore that same expression which only slack-jawed zombies in cheesy horror films were supposed to.

Gideon smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. "Maybelle is gonna be performing a special trick for us today. She's gonna be attempting to avoid the dreaded scimitars of Rucursa!" The clapping was more enthusiastic this time.

But Mabel had grown pale. They had not practiced any such trick. She knew nothing about how this was going to be pulled off. She glanced Gideon's way, but when she did, he gripped her side harder. The pain forced her to look back towards the audience and try and provide a brave smile.

She could feel his little fingers worming into her side, and her body screamed for her to wiggle free. But she knew that if she broke the façade, then he would cause her even greater pain. He pressed a thumb against the baby fat in her thighs and she nearly squealed, but bit her lip to bleeding containing the cry of distress. It became apparent as to why his nails were so long.

To draw blood.

The squeal of rusty wheels informed her that this motion must have been encouraging her to look away from the audience. She turned and could not stop panic from flooding her face as two bulky men rolled a large cabinet her way. It was not the scenes of the desert painted upon each side of the cabinet however, which got her attention. It was the dozens of Arabian swords which pierced the walls of the coffin on wheels.

"And now...let's see if Miss Pines can survive her encounter with the dreaded scimitars of Rucursa!" Gideon slapped her on the left ass cheek to force movement, and Mabel tried to keep tears from rolling down her face as she moved towards the trap.

Her hands clenched and unclenched as she tried to prepare herself for being locked in the tight position with blades stabbing towards her. _It's just a trick. It's just a trick. He won't kill me yet._

Without waiting for further prodding, she strolled over to the box, gave the crowd the fakest smile she had yet, and stepped inside. From the inside, Mabel became aware that this was not the same box that she had practiced the routine within. For one thing, it appeared considerably smaller. For a second thing, she couldn't locate the slits which the scimitars were supposed to slide into.

She would have no way of knowing where the iron teeth would bite.

"AND NOW…to see if Miss Pines can survive the blades of distant lands. Or will her luck finally fail her?"

Mabel attempted to keep her breathing normal, finding the box stuffy and not very well ventilated in the least. She slid her fingers across the walls of her new coffin, searching for some hidden seam. The sound of wood being pierced reached Mabel just fast enough for her to leap to the side and stifle a shriek when a sword stabbed through the box where her leg had been moments before. Laughter echoed outside the box as she panted, eyes still locked to the silver blade.

Not daring to hop over the sword, Mabel raised her left leg and drew it over the razor edge. She stood on her tippy-toes to keep the blade from cutting into her vaginal lips. Again the crack of wood tipped her off, that dreadful sound sending goosebumps crawling across her skin. She raised her other leg over the scimitar and pressed herself against the far left wall as a second blade embedded itself just right of the other sword.

She reached for the doorknob, her hand growing sweaty as she fumbled to turn it. The lock refused her exit strategy, and her breathing picked up.

 _CAR-RAAAACK!_

She squeezed to the left, falling into a sitting position when a sword slashed through the door. The teen was unable to contain a hiss as it bled her right shoulder. Her entire being was numbed as she lowered her gaze and realized that there was no way out of the crate from the inside. The brunette began to hyperventilate as it became clear that she was at the mercy of an insane nine-year-old.

For all of Middle School, Mabel had been forced to wear headgear. The dentist claimed that if she didn't, her teeth would face major damage. Of course, the equipment had drawn more attention to the brunette than she had ever asked for, and frequently she would hear her fellow classmates snicker behind her back. The mocking wore on Mabel, her imagination and creating all the jokes which might incite that cruel laughter.

One day, as she was removing her backpack from her locker when she finally heard the joke. Two girls behind her, whispering to one another in too audible voices. Oh, how easy it would have been if they had spoken too quiet for her young mind to pick up on. But Mabel had excellent hearing from her and Dipper's numerous summer days spent playing hide and seek in the forest behind their backyard.

 _"Do you think she gets a toothache whenever there's a magnet nearby?"_

It was such a simple joke. Such an idiotic attempt at humor, not in cruelty but in disposition. The kind of joke which funny-duddy uncles told their nephews and nieces, only with a touch of sadism sprinkled in.

Yet it had been enough to break her. Mabel had turned to them with tears in her eyes. Of course the tears had drawn further laughter, and kids had crowded around her. Being so crowded drew out her claustrophobia and made her feel like the freak at the local circus. She had begun hyperventilating, her high pitched search for breath causing the laughter to grow and grow until it was all she heard.

The vicious cycle sent her into a fit of panic and she fell to her knees, unable to stand. Mabel liked to think that she had grabbed the girl's dress to try and pull herself to a stand. But she knew, deep inside, that she was the freak dragging the latest wisecracker into the cage.

It was only after Dipper pulled her off of the girl and dragged her outside to get some fresh air that she saw the blood on her hands. Later, at the hospital, she would find out that the girl she had assaulted was not the one who had told the joke, but the one who had laughed.

Weeks of therapy should have made sure that never again she would hyperventilate in this fashion, nor attack someone else. But at the moment, she would disfigure a dozen thirteen-year-old girls to get out of this box. Her breath had reached that mock-worthy shriek and the laughter of the audience had become deafening. Her nails, the ghost of blue polish still gripping them, tore against the wood. Blood oozed from the cracked nails, and splinters drew into her fingertips.

Another sword slashed through wood behind her, and she jumped with pain as it slashed her lower back, tearing a seam in her dress. As a result of this jump, she cut her elbow upon the second blade. The pain blocked out the sound of her own wheezing, as she struggled not to move again, and mutilate herself any further. The oppressively warm air within began to choke in her lungs, and she called out desperately.

"I CAN'T GET OUT! LET ME OUT!"

The audience laughed harder than ever, some members even jeering at her panic. Out of the jibes and hoots, she recognized Gideon's titter from nearby.

"Sounds like somebody is in over her pretty little head, amirite boys?"

More laughter. Why weren't any of them doing anything? Couldn't there hear the panic in her voice? Someone had to understand that this wasn't fake anymore. Someone had to stop him, or Dipper would pay for her own weakness.

"PLEASE! I'M NOT ACTING! I'M BLEEDING…THIS-THIS HURTS! PLEASE!" Her voice cracked as her plea caused the spectators to bust a gut in their fit of laughter.

They were eating it up like sharks in a tank. They laughed as Gideon sunk another blade into the box, and her knuckles began to ache as the sword stabbed through the wood above her head. Her breath grew more and more ragged as her mind grew more cluttered.

Another crack, the crack of her bones when one of the scimitars finally made contact with her ribs or spine. This one from above. Collapsing, she braced herself against the floor as another blade hissed straight downward from the roof of the cabinet. It stopped just above her navel, the rise and fall of her stomach with every breath bringing her skin ever closer to the sharp edge.

Splinters rained upon her lightly shuddering form as she repeated the same words over and over again. "I wanna call it off…I wanna call it off…"

She sounded like a toddler hiding from the monster under her bed, but could not help it. The terror made the feeling go out of every inch of her. She was trapped, exactly where he wanted her. No Dipper to rescue her, nothing to fight. Just steel blades which would eviscerate her if they didn't impale her first. Her heart beating like a rabbit's, she slid so that the sword from the ceiling would no longer hurt her.

 _All that's left is to wait_ , she supposed in the eerie calm.

She had become so traumatized that she did not even flinch as a scimitar slashed out beside her ear, and blood seeped down across her pale neck. She gasped for breath like a fish out of water convinced that no more oxygen lay within the box. Of course, it wasn't a box. It was a casket. Specially designed just for her, complete with razor sharp blades. The only problem was that she had been buried alive. Put in her casket to early. And here her funeral was being played out on a live stage.

Then the door opened, and light filled the casket. She bolted forward, ignoring the slashes on her ankle and knee created by her eager movement. Pushing past the stagehand who had opened the trap, she stumbled down the steps and felt the world spin as she collapsed onto the rough boards of the stage. Every bit of her stung in some way, and the breath had been knocked out of her by slamming into the wooden stage. She lay there for a long moment, resembling a beached whale as she haggardly gasped for breath.

A hand reached out towards her, and she looked up with heaving lungs. Gideon smiled down at her, his eyes glowing teal. Had they always been that color? Did it matter? Did anything matter other than her not being Gravity Fall's latest human kebab? She took the hand, although just touching his skin now, felt dirty. Mabel cringed as he yanked her to her feet with surprising strength, and swatted her on the ass.

"Well done Miss Pines. Folks, give her a right good hand!"

They clapped as she glanced down at herself and realized that her costume was falling apart in a dozen places. She was bleeding on the stage and was coughing up phlegm. Her stomach felt like a pit, and her head felt an unwilling passenger strapped in for a rollercoaster ride. Blood rolled down her skin as she felt Gideon run a lecherous hand down her back. Fed up, her hand whipped out, and struck him.

The white haired boy stumbled, and then caught himself. Applause stopped and the audience grew silent as Mabel forced herself to stand. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the look of utmost surprise on his face. She wondered how long it had been since someone fought back.

Touching the red mark on his pale cheek, he turned his eyes on her. They were black with rage, each a pit of cold fire. He snapped his fingers, and the curtain dropped without as much as another word. Reaching into his shirt, the boy lifted a medallion into view.

"You're gonna regret that, Mabel dear."

She began to back away but knew that outrunning him was impossible. Everyone here worked for him. She didn't know why, but she knew that they were nothing but pawns. They would catch her. _They_ would bring her back to their master, kicking and screaming if they had to. It was inevitable.

The medallion in his hands glowed bright blue, and that shivering energy ran up his arm and into his skull. It pooled in his eyes and escaped his nostrils. Her feet began to raise up off the ground, and she felt stiff cold run up her legs. She tried to move them but discovered that a light aura of that energy now surrounded them.

"Let me go Gideon!"

She knew that he wouldn't, but a very small part of her thought that she might be able to appeal to his affectionate side. Although at this point, she wasn't sure if he even had a soul. He might have sold it for that shiny stone he now clutched with a dangerous look.

"I'm afraid I can't do that my dear. You must be punished."

The numbness crept up her stomach and mounted her chest. She shuddered to think what would happen when it reached her neck. Her legs would kick in an attempt to free her from the invisible hands which increased number by the second, but they had become dead weight.

Gideon smirked as the coldness clawed its way through her stomach. "You must learn your place."

 **[0]**

Mabel thought she was lying in a pile of mush.

As the numbness receded, she realized that she was lying on an extremely comfortable mattress. It took a few moments for the rest of her body to start working again, and needles pricked all over her arms and legs. She sat up and breathed in the moist air. It came from a window, somewhere else in the house.

Where was she? Why had Gideon bought a house if he moved around a lot?

The room was dark, the only light peeking from the just ajar door from the hall. She could hear Gideon, discussing something with a raspy voice devoid of gender. It took her a moment to realize that she had been changed into her regular clothes.

Shuddering, she slid off of the king sized mattress and approached the door. The voices grew louder and she picked up something about a deadline. Then Gideon grew hushed, and she froze beside the door. On the tips of her feet, Mabel backed away from the door and slid back into bed. She closed her eyes and tried to repeat that cute whistle of a snore which Dipper had frequently complained about.

The door opened, and the light snapped on. "She asleep."

The second voice had disappeared, as she could not hear the breath of a second party. Gideon approached the bed and drew a hand across her hair. "Poor, misguided little bird…we'll fix her, won't we?"

She had to struggle not flinch, instead forcing a yawn and blinking her eyes open. Gideon was staring down at her with glazed over orbs, each pupil glowing faintly. And the person he had just been talking to? Nowhere to be seen.

The glow left his eyes and he shook himself. "Come with me, I have a breakfast prepared."

She considered grabbing his amulet right then and there. However, he could probably use it before she could rip the chain free from around his neck. Sliding out of bed, she followed, rubbing her head. The magic or whatever it was heh ad used on her, left her brain feeling like it had just experienced the greatest brain freeze in history.

It wasn't as bad as the time she had awoken from possession. The urge to vomit was missing. However, she found it difficult to not think in short, simple observations and statements. Images were blurry when they came to mind, Dipper becoming a blob of reminiscence, just as her parents were a storm of bitterness.

"G-Gideon…I…I want to go home."

He didn't look her way, instead continuing down the hall. She followed, unwilling to be left alone in this strange place.

"You'll be home soon enough." He said eyes fixed on something beyond her comprehension.

The hall was filled with paintings and statues, and she could feel the chug of some grand machine underneath her feet. The shag carpet was blue and red, with a disorienting pattern repeated across it. For a second the pattern looked like an eye, and eerie uniqueness of being watched crawled down her spine.

When she looked up, Gideon had disappeared around the corner. She broke into a run to keep up with him, following his little blue form through a hall where the walls were obscured by massive mahogany bookcases. She only caught the titles of a few of them, but the one's she did were written in a language she knew nothing of.

She ceased her movement and screamed after him. "No! I am sick of this. I don't care what you do to me, but I will not stay here or stay near you again!"

He stopped. Slowly, he turned her way. "And what about your brother?"

She shook, and flinched as he stepped closer. "If you won't be mine, then you won't be his either." The lamps flickered and the psychotic child's face darkened.

Mabel began to back away as that same coldness flooded the air. Panting, she blinked away the drowsiness which had begun to infest her and glared at him. "You have to tell me. The least you can do is explain, because I will not go one more step if I don't understand what you are and why those people were laughing when I was screaming in panic!"

He continued seething for a couple of seconds, and for a brief moment she imagined him using that amulet of his to snap her in two. Then a smile peeled across his features. She shuddered, hoping he had not called her bluff. The idea that he might be able to read minds occurred to her, and she had to fight hard not to let despair break her demeanor.

"You Pines, you always have _so_ many questions." He laughed and placed a hand on his amulet.

"You see this?" He raised it so that she got a better look, and as the brunette began to inch closer to him, no longer feeling as threatened, she saw that there were little orbs of light buzzing about beneath the surface.

"It's magic." She said, eyes focused on the largest orb.

He burst out laughing at her statement, and she almost blushed for how stupid the cackles made her feel. Dipper would know what the amulet was, if he hadn't been so recently mutilated.

"Yes, it's magic. Although not the kind you usually think of." He clutched it and the orbs of light buzzed up his fingertips, traveling through his chest and rolling about behind his eyeballs. It took her a moment to realize that only part of him which was really glowing was his viens. They had trailed a labyrinth across his body, all cycling from blue, to green, to yellow, and back to blue.

 _"It is a way to contact the vast energies of the void, and manipulate them to my will."_ His voice was deafening, and she had to clutch her ears and look away, as his eyes had begun to turn into green lightbulbs, illuminating the hall ENTIRELY ON THEIR OWN ONCE THE lamps flickered out.

He removed his hand and the glow of his veins began to cease. Breathing in and out, he smirked. "Can you tell me how many people died of syphilis?"

"What does that-"

Like a bull, he snorted. "Answer. The. Question."

Mabel had never been good at history. "I…don't know."

Again he snorted, this time the sound far less angry and more exasperated. "I was correct in the postulation your face was the most useful bit of you."

Her hands formed fists. "Listen, I don't have to-"

"My parent's died of it. Syphilis which is to say. They left me and my little sister to our own devices. Back then, kids could work and there weren't any regulations on work conditions."

Mabel frowned. "I knew you weren't-"

"Nine? No. I've been nine for a very long time. My sister was twelve." He removed a vintage photo and showed it to her with a touch of disdain clouding the bit of nostalgia which had crept into his voice. The picture depicted a girl who looked very much like Mabel had when she was twelve years old. Only this girl had shorter hair and a smile free of braces.

He returned the photo to his pocket, holding it with a delicacy which she had not seen him use ever since he had dropped the little kid act. "She tried to provide for me, but I knew that it was a futile pursuit. So I consulted the book which my father had inherited. A book filled with concoctions, monstrosities of every shape and size, charms, and…evocations."

 _Dipper's Journal._ She realized, her eyes widening.

"I summoned a demon. A demon who was willing to tie to my body, giving me virtual immortality and all of its powers. In exchange, I had to perform the gruesome acts which people the demon knew people wanted to see. And I had to perform those acts on female virgins…some weird demon shit that part, trust me, I didn't make these rules. The demon doesn't want me to outright _kill_ them on stage however, it wants them to stick around a little bit…that's why all of your cuts are gone."

Mabel frowned, about to protest, but discovering that indeed, she had none of the wounds which she had sustained from the cabinet.

"It heals you…as long as the audience want more. See, this demon feeds on the subconscious appetites of human beings, on the thought beneath the thought. The weak-willed shall always see a simple trick, but in the back of their mind, their blood is pumping because a girl is about to be impaled."

Mabel looked away.

"No matter how they deny it, human beings are built to enjoy violence. I just provide the only thing which keeps them from shooting their husbands and gutting their children. And thus, if the audience truly wants more of the girl, then it heals her so that she may perform the following show."

"What happened to your sister?" Mabel was almost afraid to ask, with the creeping feeling that she already knew the answer.

Gideon ran a thumb across the stone. "Let's just say that they didn't want an encore from her."

Her sympathy for him disappeared when he looked up with a psychotic grin. "Since then I've been traveling about, controlling the weak willed and changing my name every ten years. I've played more magician shows than you can imagine. Once or twice I even pulled off the 'miracle child' gig. Evangelists are dumber than the average show-goer, although they are noisier. I never meant to hurt those girl's you see…but if I don't continue, then the demon will consume me."

"Alright, you've explained. Don't expect me to feel sorry for you when you've ruined so many people's lives just to save your own hide." She crossed her arms, loathing the emotional turmoil which his story (probably only half-true in nature) had stirred inside of her.  
He met her eye. "I've got ambition, Mabel. I'm not ready to die, I'm still a kid. I've never driven a car, I've never made love, hell, I can't even drink alcohol without throwing up. I gave those girl's a chance at fame. They would have been used and tossed out by the industry anyway, left to live the rest of their lives mourning the fact that they didn't stay youthful forever." She had to look away, and he directed his vengeful gaze to the carpet. She half expected for two burn marks to appear. "Yes, I am selfish, cruel even. Yes, I am perverted. But it is the world which has fashioned me this way. At least I have the decency to donate to the families after their daughters disappear. You show me a sane person who would sacrifice themselves, their life of luxury and decadence for the common good, and I'll end this here and now."

She didn't respond. Her urge to kick him was greater than ever.

He tried to grab her attention, to look into her eyes again. But she refused. "That's what makes you perfect Mabel Pines. Of all the girl's, you are the first one who figured it out. Even my own sister was unable to detect the air of supernatural powers at work. Poor girl died praying to god, instead of the real powers. But you…you've been toyed with your whole life."  
She wanted to run. He would catch her. He would make her listen to his appeal, to his impossible fantasy.

"After that first night Mabel…I hired my agents to bring me every scrap of information about you. Your classmates made you the butt of their jokes. Your parents tried to get rid of you."  
Confusion swept across her face at this junction, but then she shook herself, refusing to believe his accusations.

"Your great-uncle only took you in because he wanted manual labor. Your brother has always used you as his collateral damage, someone he can gain companionship from, someone who he'll eventually leave by the side of the road for that idiotic redhead."

She stepped away when he tried to touch her arm, and he continued, practically foaming at the mouth. "The Fey used you for their amusement. The ghosts used you as a vessel. I've seen you toss in your sleep, Mabel."

At this point, the idea that he had crept into her bedroom hardly fazed her. "Other people just want to use you, they want to use your youth and your optimism for their own crooked plans. And I am ashamed to say that I too manipulated you." This time, he gripped her arm, and she didn't force him off.

"But no longer. I'll get you an amulet. The two of us can be a duo. No longer will we have to sacrifice girls. We'll live forever, together. Your brother will always be safe. Your life will be filled with fine things and people who would give everything for you."

"You almost killed my brother, you piece of shit." She didn't care if he got angry, the idea of being in any kind of relationship with this murderous little freak made her physically upset.

"I can fix him. I have potions which will restore him to his former self. He'll be right as rain. All you have to do…is sign the pact with me."

"Why don't you just mind control me into doing it?"

He gave a sigh, which hinted at the frustration which he was just keeping from overflowing. "Mabel, I can only create small illusions. And only to those willingly ignorant. You…you are aware. You are beautiful. You are kind. You are the greatest person I have ever met, and I without you…I'll only fall further into despair. Please, you're the only thing which can give my life meaning anymore. You're the only cure to this constant hormonal torture."

Her hands unclenched.

"If you do this, you'll want for nothing. All your hard work, all this time spent being nice and original, all this time you haven't complained _once_ about how much your life has been ruined by the sacrifices you have made for others. Now it's time to let the universe reward you. Fame, importance, riches, and-and…unchanging youth. You don't want to grow up. You don't want to drift apart from Dipper? Well, this is your answer. This is the answer to every daydream, to every passion which has brought you to tears."

She looked at him and saw the lust in his eyes. Not lust as in the sexual attraction, although he clearly had quite a bit of that. No, this was lust as in "intense longing." At the moment, he wanted nothing more than her. She was all he could think about.

Someone had finally refused him, and that just made him all the more obsessed with the object. She was the object. She was the girl who we would stay with forever but toss out next year. If she even lasted that long.

She was his next victim and the fact that getting rid of her hadn't been as easy as he wanted gnawed on him. This entire set up was one big power fantasy for his twisted mind, one distraction from his decaying sanity. It wouldn't be long before he realized that spending an eternity with someone who didn't reciprocate was hell. He would smash her amulet and toss her to the dogs.

He was also so out of touch that he didn't understand the basic rule of humanity; No one wants everything that they want. She remembered Dipper reading that bit from "Coraline" when they were thirteen. He had especially liked that bit, as had she. It felt comforting.

"Alright…I'll do it." She had managed to summon some tears, those helped sell him on the lie, although they did not help as much as his own craving to see love where there was none.

 **[0]**

Miss Grey had intended to check up on the progress of his boss and the latest toy. Gideon had never offered to share his power before this, and she was skeptical as to it working out the way in which the demon intended. After all, just because her boss was four times as old as him, did not mean that he was much more mature than an actual child.

If anyone would know, it would be her. She had worked with the child warlock for the past two decades, the two of them meeting when Avira sold him supplies for the supernatural. Before that, Avira had been a shopkeeper in this two-bit town, just trying to keep her head down while that crazy cult came into power.

It had been his idea to visit this place, as Gideon had been intent on visiting a town where things were "different." Gravity Falls had been the first location which popped into her head, and now that she had returned, she was quite sure that the place had not changed in the least. Much like the town, Gideon had not changed one bit in the past twenty years.

He was still just as naive and deluded. Not that Miss Grey was going to make this observation verbally known. The last person who was honest with her boss had not lasted very long.

When she reached the door, hand in the air to knock, she heard the crash of glass. Although Gideon's sessions with the unholy powers were usually quite disruptive, they rarely produced such explosive sounds. She knocked lightly on the door, and when she heard a squeal of pain, she burst inside.

In the center of the room, a vibrant blue cloud circled in the center of the room, contracting and expanding as it awaited its master to continue the chant. Right next to

The "toy" had tackled Gideon to the ground and was attempting to break his amulet. Gideon took one look at his agent, and screamed for her to get her ass "over here!" She rushed over, wrapping one arm around the brunette's neck, and using her other hand to snatch the amulet before it hit the ground.

Incredibly delicate due to its age and from having to channel so much energy so frequently, the gem would shatter from the slightest abuse. She tossed Mabel to the side and offered the pendant to its owner. Many times she had considered attempting to turn the allegiance of the stone to herself. But she knew better.

The demon responsible for creating the pendant channeled its power through Gideon alone. Not to mention, Miss Grey was more of a follower than a leader.

"What should we do with her?" She asked upon helping Gideon to his feet and casting a glance towards the half-conscious teenager.

Gideon snarled, and Miss Grey immediately retracted her hand, as though finding it close to the muzzle of a rabid Rottweiler. Mabel tried to get up, and in an instant, teal energy surrounded the teen and threw her into the ceiling, then against the floor and then flung her into the corner.

The brunette quivered in pain, trying and failing to sit up and generally do anything other than moan in pain. Avira almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

She had spent the last third of her life hoping that Gideon might offer to take her along for the immortal ride. To watch this whore throw it all away filled her with almost as much loathing for the brunette as her boss was currently experiencing.

"Bring out the tank…we are going to drown her."

 **[0]**

Mabel awoke to find herself being carried by one of Gideon's goons. Bergmann was in front, wheeling a metal staircase onto the stage and jamming it against a tank of water. Gideon stood beside the tank, his grin twitching with barely concealed rage.

"You didn't want me, so now you will face your maker." He followed close behind as the thug brought her up the stairs, one stomp at a time.

Mabel tried to kick, to struggle. But her mind was woozy, and the numbness had only just begun to leave her limbs. Staring at the frigid water which her feet kicked over, her attention was brought by the chains at the base of the tank.

"You'll never get away with this." She said, forcing her voice not to crack.

"Oh?" Gideon asked as he leaned on the railing of the staircase, grinning at his own reflection in the water.

"Yeah. Dipper's going to do what he does best." She turned her gaze his way with cold certainty. "He's going to figure out what no one else has, and then he's going to kick your ass."

Fear briefly struck his features. Then he chuckled. "I'll just have to have him smothered in his hospital bed then.

Gideon snapped his fingers, and the man holding her let her drop. Instantly the chains leaped up, pulled by Gideon's invisible hands. They clamped onto her and had she not been holding her breath, Mabel would have let out a hiss of pain for the skin which was pinched. The iron pulled taught with every attempt to escape the tank she made, restricting her from reaching the surface of the tank.

The psychotic child smiled at her as she thrashed in the water. She scowled back up. The numbness had finally disappeared, with the frigid water helping to turn her mind alert. He had hurt her and untold others. He was planning on hurting innumerable others. But most of all he had hurt Dipper, and she wouldn't allow that.

Her fury turned into strength and she kick off the left wall of the glass. The curtain lifted, and the audience got a good look of her pounding both fists against the glass. They might even have seen the determined look on her face before their eyes grew glazed and the image changed in their minds.

Despite her rage, the glass proved too thick. Her attempts only caused her knuckles to grow bruised, not to weaken the translucent wall. She could hear the cackling of her captor and his lackeys even from two feet underwater.

The situation reminded her of one of Dipper's brief interests, the escapist Houdini. When they were seven, he had asked for her to tie to a bedpost and watch as he escaped. Of course, she had made the knots too tight, and after some sibling mockery, she untied him.

For a moment, she spent all her energy trying to remember how the legendary escapist had picked locks. Dipper must have repeated the information a dozen times, as he always used to read out loud. The information resisted review, however, and left her with aching lungs.

 _I'm sorry Dipper,_ Mabel thought as everything began to blur together. _I'm sorry that I failed you again._ The blood mixed in the water making her vision even murkier and causing her fatalism to grow.

Mabel didn't know much about drowning, but she had always heard that it was one of the less painful deaths. It would be nice if that were true. But she doubted it based on the steady burn which had imposed itself upon her lungs. She pounded harder than ever, but all that happened was that her knuckles had begun to bleed.

The world slowed down as asphyxiation began to take hold, and her fist began to ache as she leaned against the glass for support. She didn't know if she was crying at this point, but it felt like she was.

Mabel had always loved school plays. They had become an even bigger part of her life after therapy, a way to express herself and to escape from reality. Her mother and father had always awarded her more attention than Dipper, which had been fine with her brother. He preferred to be left alone. While he was investigating the stretch of forest in their little suburb, she would be practicing dancing. Or gymnastics. Even martial arts at one point.

She sang songs out loud while walking to school, half hoping someone would hear her. Her backpack was decorated with every sticker she could get her hands on. It felt horrifying, yet fitting, that she would die here, just another tourist attraction in a town with nothing but fakeness.

 _No. I can't give up._

Her body disagreed with her mind and soul, however. Every bit of her felt torn up and broken. She had been used, she had been played like a fiddle. Her brother was in the hospital because of her. She deserved this pain.

 _But he wouldn't want you to die,_ the voice argued. Beneath her collar, she could feel the souvenir he had won her at the throwing booth, that first day at the fair, the sharp edge of the metal pineapple's foremost leaf digging into her upper ribs as she thrashed involuntarily.

Reaching under her collar, Mabel Pines removed the medallion which Dipper had won her. Raising the metal pine cone, she snapped the thread holding it to her neck in one foul jerk and dug it into the glass in front of her. Gideon, standing just in front of the tank, laughed alongside the audience at her attempts.

That is until cracks began to form on the tank.

Mabel smiled as the cage popped like the zit squeezed too hard, and water flooded the stage. The look on Gideon's face was priceless.

Water knocked him to his feet and splashed the audience, it's chilly nature breaking the illusion and filling them with panic as their conscious took back control. Stagehands panicked as bits of glass went flying everywhere, and the water short-circuited one of the display lights. Sparks shot across and onto the canvas sides of the tent, causing the flame to break out.

Mabel inhaled in the musty air of the tent and exhaled in momentary calm. Then she stared at Gideon, winded and sprawled out just in front of her. His amulet lay just out of reach, teetering on the edge of the stage. With Gideon disarmed, his henchmen fled the scene, some extremely confused now that the influence of constant buzzing had left their minds. Others dropped off of the stage, hoping to escape before firemen and police showed up.

Stalking over to her would-be murderer, Mabel bent to one knee and dragged him closer so that the chains allowed more arm room.

"The key." She demanded while lifting him into the air to meet her gaze. Gideon coughed out some water and retrieved the key from his pocket.

She snatched it out of his shaking hands and jammed it into the locks. Dropping her foe she soothed her wrists the moment that the shackles snapped off. Gideon tried to crawl toward his source of power, but the soaked Mabel Pines grabbed his collar and tossed him aside.

With one motion, she embedded the metal pine cone into the gem, and by twisting her hand about, she sent it sputtering into tiny fragments. Electricity streams upper her arm and dislocated her shoulder. The pain was nothing compared to the insane rush of vigor, however. For a split-second, she could sympathize with Gideon.

Energy crackled outward and almost winded her. It flashed across the ceiling, and more fire, this time, blue and purple sprung forth.

Gideon moaned, his own body twisting with energy. "No…no…no…how…"

The brunette marched over to him and gripped his collar, twisting his arm to get his attention. "First of all, you are going to leave town in a week or I will come back here and burn the place to the ground. Second, you are going to mail the healing potion you mentioned to me and pay for all of Dipper's medical bills. If you EVER threaten me or my brother again, I will tear your limbs off you little freak! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

He nodded despite the obvious pain which was flowing through him.

"Good."  
She turned away, treading carefully over the shards of glass and ignoring his stuttering calls. The wind began to pick up as she exited the tent, and enjoyed the feeling of grass on her toes and the taste of fresh air.

 **[0]**

She half expected the potion not to work. For this to be his sick revenge. Had Gideon actually mailed her poison, then no force on earth could have kept her from him.

But the yellow liquid had filled Dipper's body and he had glowed like sunshine. His scrapes and bruises had disappeared before her eyes, the broken bone reconstructing. When his eyes opened, she could not help from jumping into a hug.

"Great to have you back bro." She said as she held back tears, and he felt the comforting irritation of her gray sweater rubbing against his neck.

 **[0]**

Gideon slammed the door of his RV shut. He fixed his tie as he crossed the living area and reached the bathroom. Opening it, he slipped into the darkened room with a vengeful look. He flipped the switch and took a moment to survey the many photos which lined the walls and hung from the clothes lines which netted the room.

They were all of the Pine Twins. Together, alone, talking, laughing, crying, and bathing. Reaching out, he stroked a picture of Mabel, taken as from the bathroom window as she showered.

He smiled as the demonic force within him began to crackle lightly against his skin. He removed the tome of spells from beneath his arm and snatched up a picture of Mabel standing beside him.

"You certainly are a little firecracker, Mabel Pines. But I didn't sell my soul to get beaten by some scatter-brained millennial."

He turned towards the mirror, and a light shined through his being and gleamed out of his irises. The entire RV shook as his reflection grew more demonic by the second. In the mirror black liquid oozed from his orifices and rolled across his spike body. Bone growths joined scars made to mimic arcane sigils, and extra eyes, these blood red, popped open upon his forehead like pustules.

There was a light knock on the door, and Gideon sighed. The energy ceased, and he snapped on the lights. He had aged a year. He had to get his hands on The Machine before the aging process truly set in and he turned into dust.

Opening the door, he stared up at Bergmann. The sweaty man ran a hand across his hairless scalp. "We uh…we found It."

He didn't seem to notice that his boss had changed. Gideon licked his lips. "Excellent, don't feed it a thing. I want to make sure that It is starved by Summerween."

Nodding, Bergmann ran off. Gideon grinned when he heard the roaring outside. _The Pines twins are about to figure out just how in over their heads they actually are._

* * *

 ** _Mabel is a badass. Unfortunately, Gideon is going to summon the top of the food chain, the thing which eats badasses for breakfast and asks for more._**

 ** _This was the longest episode yet. Most episodes will probably half this length, as it takes forever to write something like this and then edit it into something fashionable. I apologize for how long it took for this to be finished, school work has been getting in the way. I promise updates will be more regular however, that is until I face another monster of an episode, with tons of buildup and foreshadowing._**

 ** _And now for Q &A!_** **  
**"Cipher is not to be trifled with... Stanford Pines is not to be trusted... I'm too lazy to try and decipher the other codes... (Don't judge me) I'm curious as to whether or not 'Stanford' has a twin in this universe. Interesting that Soos is dead. Possibly a ghost cameo? I'm also wondering if/when Pacifica, Candy, Grenda and Gideon will show up. (If they're even still alive)

One big question I have is whether or not this story will have chapters based off of season 2 as well as season 1. I would love to see a more graphic depiction of the Stanchurian Candidate and Sock Opera. Will we ever have a chapter focused on Wendy's dead mother? Alex confirmed that she wasn't with them a long time ago and I was disappointed that she wasn't ever mentioned in the show. Possibly a chapter showing how Wendy became a stoner? I cannot wait for the Society Of The Blind Eye to show up. " ~ _Returdedphoenixmorph_

 ** _Well, Gideon has shown up, Pacifica will be here soon (although I warn you, in this AU she is twice as detestable, admittedly with a much darker origin story)._** _**I'll consider having Soos appear as a ghost/zombie/whatever…although the reason I didn't use him in the first place was that he didn't fit with the tone of my AU. I considered giving him a mental disorder, but then decided it would just be better to replace him with McGucket. I'll keep it in mind, though!  
I'm not sure if I'll ever do Stanchurian Candidate as I would have to really re-work the tone and plot, but I'll keep the idea in my pocket. Sock Opera is a definite, as I cannot say no to a sadist/masochist demon possessing a teen. ;) There is going to be major character development for Wendy over the next few episodes, and more about her mother will be revealed.**_

 ** _Thank you for the compliments, I hope you enjoyed this chapter._**

"Will the Northwest corruption be flared out? Seeing as the psychologically tortured their own daughter using Pavlovian training at the LEAST, it feels like this story would be the perfect way to have her rebel away from them with the twins helping. This Dipper is paranoid enough to study, analyze, and decipher her abuse and that he compares her to anti-Mabel a realized how like they might have been early on, then her parents did that. Basically, rage/fear cause he sees what society could've done to Mabel _." ~_ _The Keeper of Worlds_

 ** _The Northwest's are, in this AU, ten times as horrible people and worse yet, are tied to the forces which make Gravity Falls a playground for creations of the Elder Gods. As a result, they are going to play majorly into the lore, and will get their comeuppance, but only much later into the story._**

 ** _Dipper is observant enough to see through Pacifica's haughty disguise. As mentioned in this chapter, he has protected his sister from sexual harassment. He knows how terrible the world is (Mabel is the only reason he still believes in humanity), although he doesn't have much sympathy for bullies, especially ones who target his sister. As also mentioned, however, Mabel is very volatile when pushed too hard. If Pacifica doesn't learn when to cease her bullying, then she might be the cause of one of those mental breakdowns._**

From _Coldblue_ :

"1) Will Gruncle Stanford Pines still be trapped in another dimension or did Stanford die?"

 ** _I'm sorry but any questions regarding Stanford/Stanley and them being twins, I can't answer. I want to help you guys understand this world and get you into the lore, but stuff regarding the portal, Bill, The Author, etc. are going to have to stay unanswered for a little while. Don't worry! Answers will come soon enough, but for now, I'm going to skip any questions regarding those subjects, because I don't want to ruin the surprises for you! I hope you understand._**

"2) How will Mabel meet Grenda and Candy? Will Candy and Grenda be different or have slightly more developed characters?"

 ** _Candy and Grenda will be VERY different._**

"3) Will Dipper try to date some girls to get over his attraction to Mable? Have you thought of Candy and Pacifica Northwest as Dipper chance to have some experience with girls?"

 ** _Let's put it this way: The only thing Dipper is more afraid of than being powerless is the female species. He does not go looking for dates, hell, he doesn't think of himself as handsome enough to "get the girl." As well, romance doesn't bring much to a horror/mystery story, so I won't have too much of it._**

 ** _However, Dipper will be getting his hormones under control, and yes, there is a character he will be romantically attached to._**

"4) Does Bill Cipher have his own Cult in Gravity Falls and does NO ONE, but the Journals and Stanford Pines, Bill Cipher name? Is Bill called something different by the Cults like Solomon Eye or something?"

 ** _Bill has multiple cults devoted to him._** _**Most of those cults think that they are worshipping something else entirely however.**  
_  
"5) Have you thought of Dimensional travelers such as Rick and Morty appearing in Gravity Falls sometimes?"

 ** _I haven't watched R &M, but I'll check it out. I suppose I could manage some kind of crossover, but I am wary of the idea._**

 ** _Hope you guys enjoyed, and the next episode should be out within the next two weeks. Tell me if you guys think a Time Travel-centric episode is a good idea, I'm still unsure as to whether I should do one._**


	4. S1, E4: Discoveries

**Episode 4: Discoveries**

* * *

Stan Pines climbed out of his car, straightening his tie as he stared at the stars above. He lowered his gaze to the massive lodge house which resided on the only island which Lake Mortis had. A full moon hung above in the cloudless sky, its light shimmering off of the ripples in the water. Even from across the lake, he could hear the fast-paced fiddle played inside while the light of gas lanterns streamed forth into the night air. It highlighted the statue which had been tied to the rocks in front of the island.

He slammed the door close, and the sound roused McGucket, who was currently lounging on the row boat which they frequently used for Stan's escapades to Idiot Island (his personal nickname for the island).

Eyeing the bottle in his cohort's hand, Stan sighed and removed it from McGucket's grasp as he sat down in the boat. "We've discussed this Fids. You think your wife wants you coming home, unable to remember how knobs work?"

McGucket glared back with uncanny sharpness. "You know as well as I do Mr. Pines, that I have no wife."

Stan felt a shiver run down his spine. His companion rarely had spells of clarity, but when he did, he could be extremely volatile. At the peak of his career, Fiddleford had been unrivaled in cruelty as well as intelligence.

Scooping a hand into the water, Stan splashed it across McGucket, sobering the old man, but also jolting him back into his normal state. "S-St-Stanford? Wh-Where-?"

"The lake Fids. Now start rowing before I toss you to the Gobblewonker."

The more decrepit of the two men ignored the comical threat and nodded, beginning to row. Despite his frail appearance, the inventor was able to still perform tasks of great endurance and strength. Stan released in the back of the rowboat, staring at the full moon and wondering how long it might be before he enjoyed another calm moment.

Ironically enough, the screams of the hedonist's within the lodge's walls broke this train of though. Stan reached to his side and fondled the semi-automatic in his left pocket. The rapacious hoots and hollers did not typically initiate violence (against guests), but when the "Idonists" got particularly rowdy, they tended to start biting. And Stan didn't like the idea of contracting something which had bred in their den of disease.

Moving past the lodge's statue, they both got an ample look at the figure displayed. It was an immense head, with three oval eyes all o different sides of its body. Tentacles extended from the beast, each extending into the water and coated in green slime.

"Uh-uh-uh, St-St-Stanford?"

Stan didn't look away from the statue. "Yeah, buddy?"

"What sh-sh-should I do a-a-about these f-f-fish c-c-creatures…?" McGucket raised a paddle as he said this, as though it might serve some use in defending them.

Stan turned his way and spotted the trouble. Water spirits were scratching against their mighty vessel, each hissing for them to jump in and join the many souls chained to the bottom of the lake. Sighing, he removed his pistol and switched off the Safety.

BANG! "That oughtta take care of them." He noted as he removed a bullet from his pocket and replaced the missing one.

McGucket glanced over the boat's edge, through his fingers. When he saw that the monster's had scattered, he exhaled and slouched. "Oh g-g-god, I th-thought they r-really had us."

"Back to rowing," Stan commanded as he turned the safety back on and slid the weapon into his coat pocket. Best to keep such devices hidden while in the presence of these lunatics.

The boat struck dry land within seconds, and Stan looked up from his cigar. Waving it out in the air, he tossed the cigar into the already heavily polluted lake and began climbing the stone stairs which lead to the "Temple of Pleasure."

Fiddleford stayed by the boat, knowing better than to do anything else.

Stan mounted the stairs two at a time, painfully aware that he was not as young as he once had been. He intended to arrive early, however. It always threw his contacts off balance and gave him leverage for any haggling over the price.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he took a moment to rest on one of the smoother boulders. If he was groaning and moaning tomorrow, then Mabel was going to ask questions about if there was anything wrong with his back. And the last thing he needed was her seeing his tattoo.

Moving to the open doorway, he flinched when he spied what lay inside. Disgusted by the display inside, she turned up his nose and moved to the spiral staircase. As he reached the top, he heard the more talkative members purring over their "pets." Ignoring the innumerable substances which were at work in the enclosed area, he parted the crimson velvet curtains of the far left booth and poked his head inside.

The Mistress looked up from her cannabis. The two broad-chested women who had been licking her stomach, looked up as well, each with a deer in the headlight's look. All three were as naked as everyone else in the temple, but Stan felt not the least bit of attraction to them. The tattoos on their bodies were enough to turn him away, but their expressions were the biggest mood killer.

Everyone except for The Mistress looked dumb as bricks.

He sat down without invitation and pulled the tray of cannabis towards himself. He jerked his thumb towards the curtains and everyone but The Mistress left the booth without hesitation. Stan Pines was the boogeyman of the entire town. Sure, there were faeries, ghosts, vampires, mutations, aliens, and all manner of demons. But no one, _no one_ wanted to be in a room with Stan Pines when he was pissed off.

And Stan hadn't been this pissed off in years.

"So…you've been supplying my competitor?" He removed another cigar and leaned into position.

She sighed, slipping on a velvet bathrobe, red as dusk. "He offered entertainment."

"He also injured my employees," Stan said.

She placed her arms on her hips. "You mean your family."

" _No._ My employees," She looked away as he raised his voice. "They are necessary to fixing The Machine. Just like your daughter, they are a means to an end, nothing more, nothing less. If their parents were a little tighter in the noggin, then those two wouldn't be here."

He took a moment to inhale and exhale, lowering his voice and slouching into a more laid back position. "Now you are not going to take any more deals with the runt, now are you?"

The Mistress sighed. "Very well."

Stan nodded, and stood, opening the curtains. "BUT," He sighed, and eyed her. "I'm warning you, Stan Pines, if you don't _discipline_ them, you'll have more than the Runt to worry about."

For a long moment, he gave her nothing more than a cold grimace. Then the older of the two smiled. "Thanks for the parenting tip. Usually, I have to buy some shitty book to get those."

And with that, he was gone.

 **[0]**

Dipper was in a sweat.

He had just awoken from a nightmare, one which sent him sprawling out of bed. His bare chest rose and fell against the cold wood floor, shivers roving his body as he told himself over and over that it was "just a dream." But the nightmare had slipped away before he could dissect the unintelligibleness of it all.

It was gone, a blank spot where trauma should be.

The sound of his sister dancing and singing disco, and any inquisitiveness he might have held for the nature of his dream, was replaced with comfort and joy. He knew this is what she was doing, because of the sounds created by her jumping back and forth in that way only she did were unmistakable. He also knew it because he had heard this particular song many times before. Mabel's tastes essentially consisted of "anything upbeat", but she had played this song many times before, most of all the time when they had gone camping in their backyard.

Smiling to himself, the stood, tossing the blankets he had kicked off back onto the cot. As he descended the staircase, he heard a second voice singing along with Mabel. This one was better pitched, a little deeper, and hearing it made his breathing rate excel.

He turned the corner, stared into the kitchen in stunned silence. Wendy Corduroy moved was dancing on the kitchen table, singing along and using a wooden spoon to mimic a microphone. His sister stood at the over flashing a pan back and forth over the griller.

Her phone lay on the table, buzzing with music.

Wendy paused when she spotted him, and showed off all her yellowing teeth with a grin. "Hey sleeping beauty, your sister introduced me to this song!"  
Dipper looked to Mabel, still at a loss for words. "I don't…what is…"

She swiveled towards him, dumping the contents of the pan onto the only plate which lay on the table. "Aww, your up! We were gonna bring you breakfast in bed."

Dipper glanced between the two of them, and then at the French toast which Mabel was dribbling a melted butter/maple syrup mixture of her own creation upon. Folding his arms, he gave her a wary look as Wendy maneuvered him into the seat. "I told you that I was fine Mabel."

She forced a giggle and turned away to retrieve silverware. "I know that bro."

He skeptically poked the toast. "Then why were you going to bring me food in bed?"

Wendy plopped down in the chair Stan usually took, and removed a fork from her pocket, spearing one of the chunks and removing it from his stack. "Ah c'mon dude, can't your sister make you breakfast without having an alternative motive?"

Dipper ignored her for the most part and turned his attention to Mabel, who was busy cooking more French toast. "I just hate the idea of you feeling guilt-ridden." He said, worried about the fact she would not look him in the eye.

Until recently, he had been recovering in the hospital from his mutilation at the hands of one Gideon Gleeful, a child magician who he had been informed was actually a semi-immortal warlock. Although his sister had defeated the summoner and retrieved the potion which (over the course of the last three days) had healed Dipper back to normal.

Dipper had been the one initially suspicious of Gideon however, and Mabel had been the one who had trusted the child. Though the two of them had discussed the subject, Dipper still had the feeling that she blamed herself for his injury.

Finally, she turned his way, eyes focused on the plate she was gripping. "I…I'm fine…"  
He reached out, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Mabel,"

She tried to pull away, no doubt feeling guilty for becoming the center of attention when he had been in a hospital bed just yesterday, but he did not allow her.

"Why don't you join me, I'm never gonna be able to finish all this breakfast before shop time."

She gave him a smile which lifted some of the worries from his mind. "Sorry, Bro. I'm taking the day to do some shopping. I'm running out of sweaters and I need more materials." She paused and stuck her

He spoke as he chewed. "Alright, just be careful."

Mabel snorted. "It's not like I'm going shopping at a store infested with demons."

He gave her an unamused look. "I know, I'm just asking you to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. Gideon still hasn't left town, and I don't think we've seen the last of him."

Mabel sighed as she applied her lipstick. During Dipper's time at the hospital, Mabel had performed all the chores which Stan usually gave to her brother. As such, she was looking forward to a day in which she could relax. As well she was just happy to be part of something relatively normal. Although her being invited to clubs and parties was not in that realm, it was more average than being chased by a giant tree demon-fairy.

She leaned down, kissing Dipper on the temple and pulling his head to face hers. "I'll be fine, alright?"

He nodded, and she asked him to wish her luck (a request which he obliged) before she scooped up her purse and headed for the exit. As her brother finally began to chow down on the French toast, the sound of the back porch door slamming rang out, alerting him that Stan had returned from one of his mysterious trips. Wendy looked up from the plate of French toast as the old man entered the room.

"Hey, boss. Breakfast?" She offered.

He shook his head, staring at the mess which Mabel had left in the sink. Turning his attention to Dipper, he snapped his fingers, the old man's way of telling his nephew to do something.

Dipper stood, glaring at him, but complying with only a little more grumbling than usual. Wendy sensed the tension between the two, and gave Dipper a sympathetic look, before retreating to her regular post.

Stan sat down with a grunt and began cutting through the second batch of toast. "So you've rested plenty."

"Yes," Dipper admitted rather forcefully.

"You've had plenty of time in the hospital to recover from that nasty accident of yours." Stan continued, filling a cup with tap water and emptying it into the coffee maker.

"Yes," Dipper said again, this time, more tersely. It was not the fact the Stan made him do so much work which bugged him, it was the triviality with which his great uncle referred to everything which was not connected to his self-interest.

"And we won't be having any more nasty accidents, _right_?"

Dipper sighed and nodded without looking up from the pan he was washing. Stan smirked and turned away, sipping his watery coffee and heading into the front of the shop. "Good. Get dressed when you're done, we've got work to do."

 **[0]**

Mabel stumbled towards the cash register, her arms full of some many orbs of yarn that she could hardly see where she was going. She squealed when another teen came around the corner and Mabel bumped into her, sending the yarn rolling across the soup aisle. Mabel scrambled to help the girl to her feet but stopped half way through. She was staring at the most beautiful girl she had ever met.

Her skin, her lips, her nails, everything about her seemed perfect. She was dressed in white jeans and a purple tee, and Mabel was surprised to see how muscular her arms were. The brunette did not expect to see someone I so much jewelry to be so athletic and scolded herself for the prejudice.

She had the most striking sea-blue eyes which Mabel had ever encountered. They looked like the sea on a stormy day, the kind of the eyes which melted hearts. The girl's platinum blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which was now somewhat disheveled.

Mabel realized that she had been staring, when she should be helping this girl to her feet, and blushed. She yanked the girl to her feet and felt like smacking herself for being so stupid. Then she gave a flurry of apologies as tried to pick up all the yarn before it got dirty or someone tripped on it.

Just as she had collected three of the nine orbs, two girls arrived at the scene. They asked the perfect girl if she was alright, and sent death glares Mabel's way. They clearly friends of the first girl, and were regarding her as if she was a piece of garbage which the perfect girl had slipped in. Mabel's cheeks burned as she collected the yarn.

"Sorry! Sorry! So sorry!"

One wore a violet tulip skirt while the other wore a green jacket over a striped tee. Much like the girl she had bumped into, they too were decked out in fine jewelry and designer clothes. Their skin and hair had been rubbed with lotion and perfumed with rare scents to perfection.

All three of them were the kind of girls who owned their own car by age sixteen and went through boyfriends like some people go through socks. They were smart, attractive, and confident, and probably about to bombard her with insults for being so clumsy. Mabel felt a little intimidated, to say the least.

"No need to apologize, here; let me help." The blonde bent down and gestured for her friends to do likewise. They exchanged glances, before sighing and bending to one knee each.

Mabel gave the blond a smile as she stood. "Thanks, again, I'm really sorry."

"Oh, it's fine. Really." The girl stood as well and offered to help carry the yarn to the register.

Mabel exhaled in relief. "That would be fantastic! You guys are the best."

"Think nothing of it." The girl said as they made their way to the front.

Again the two other girl's gave their leader scowls, remained silent. She ignored them, flipping a strand of platinum blond hair out of her face with one expertly manicured nail.

"This is Mavis," She gestured to the girl in the violet tulip skirt, who had dirty-blond pigtails and was examining her navy dyed nails. "And this is Brianna." She gestured to her dark skinned friend, who was looking Mabel up and down in an unimpressed fashion.

"My name is Pacifica Norwood." The lead girl said as she extended a hand.

Mabel blinked when she realized she had been staring, and blushed, and shook the blonde's hand. The name Norwood gnawed at her in its familiarity, however. Maybe Dipper had mentioned it during his frequent out loud theorizing.

"Mabel Pines, heh, sorry for zoning out."  
"Oh, my god," Pacifica gave a dazzling smile, and Mabel felt herself grow excited just at the prospect of causing this girl excitement. " _You're_ Mabel Pines?"  
Her friends had finally become excited as well, and Mabel felt a little baffled. "Umm…yes?"

The girl somehow grew even more excited. "Wow! I've heard so much about you. You're from Piedmont right?"

"Uh-huh." Mabel kept the shorter teen in the corner of her eye, struggling not drop an orb of yarn or careen into the magazine turnstile.

"Oh my god, you have no idea how boring out here it is. So, tell us what the latest fashion is?"

Mabel frowned, afraid to admit to her new friend that she knew nothing about fashion or gossip. "well, I…I mean I don't…"

"I'm sorry, I know you're not a magazine. It's just so good to talk to someone from outside of this hick town." The girl glared at the register worker, and he gestured for all four of them to move along.

"Wait, I don't have to pay-"

"Oh, my family owns this store, don't worry about it. So what is with all the yarn?"

Mabel blushed for the umpteenth time. "Oh, I…I knit my own sweaters." _Great, now she's going to think you're some weirdo._

"Really? That's awesome!" Mabel grinned brilliantly. No one had ever called her sweaters "awesome" before. "You know, I love homemade stuff. I know, with my outfit that's a bit of an ironic statement, but I'm just not very good at knitting and crafts." Pacifica jabbered on as they exited the store and entered the parking lot.

Mabel offered to teach her, and Pacifica jumped at the prospect, surprising the bubbly teen. Never before had someone been interested in the same stuff as her (well, Gideon had pretended to be, but she didn't like to think about that), let alone someone so stunning and of such high class. Smiling, Mabel wondered if perhaps, this summer would not turn out as she had begun to think it would.

 **[0]**

Dipper's day consisted of little moments.

Sweep the floor. Wash the windows. Take out the trash.

Robbie stopped by in the middle of the day, for him and Wendy to make out during her lunch break. As a result, Dipper's chopping of the logs in the backyard grew particularly violent.

Mop front porch. Repaint shed. Fetch McGucket's prescription. Clear out the attic.

Tobias dropped by and offered some information regarding Gideon. Dipper paid him with the mushrooms which he had collected in the nearby woods.

Re-inflate the tires on Stan's car. Remove the jackalope which is falling apart and replace it with a turtle-shell. Dust the kitchen ceiling.

6 o'clock, end of work hours.

Dipper sunk into the living room sofa completely pooped from the day's work. Removing his cell phone, he dialed his sister and reclined into the sofa. "Pick up Mabel…pick up…" He tapped a dirt filled nail against the already scratched coating his phone.

His was bare, his parents had possessed the foresight to buy a pink cover for Mabel's. Stan passed Dipper, carrying a large duffel bag and giving his nephew a glare.

 _"Hello?"_ Mabel picked up, causing Dipper to exhale loud enough for her to hear.

"Mabel? You're taking an awfully long time to finish shopping for yarn."

 _"Oh. Sorry bro! I made a new friend, and we've been perusing the wonders of store hopping since."  
_ He sighed. "Okay. You've got a ride home, right? Stuff gets real weird in town when the sun goes down." He glanced out the window to see how close the sun was to disappearing.

 _"Relax. You know what you need to do? You need to check out the library, we stopped by to drop off Paz's books-"_

"Who's Paz?"

 _"And it is AWE-SOME."_

Dipper watched as his uncle headed out the front door. "Alright…I'll walk by."

He could hear the beam in her voice. _"Great! See you for dinner!"  
_ *CLICK* Dipper, closed his phone and turned his attention to the stairs. Within minutes, he had packed his backpack and slipped it over his shoulders. Slipping out the back door, he ran down the nearest path into town, one which drifted along the road and brought him past the diner where he had first asked questions about the Fair Family.

 **[0]**

Mabel was looking through board games at the local bookstore/geek related merchandise when she heard a snicker behind her.

Brianna was pointing at a corner and whispering conspiratorially to her pig-tailed companion, Mavis. They both giggled in the way which Mabel had heard far too many times and wished she had not.

The besweatered teen followed their gaze and found her eyes resting on a tiny Asian girl, dressed in a green and teal turtleneck. The girl was struggling to keep pushing her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose, and keep her long black hair out of her face as she jumped to get a book located on a high shelf.

"What's so funny?" Mabel asked, puzzled by their behavior and a little afraid to ask.

Both Brianna and Mavis shut up pretty quickly. Mavis spoke without thinking. "She's a loser hun. She spends all her time reading and working because she doesn't have any friends. Not to mention last year she that a mental breakdow-"

Mavis cried out when Brianna elbowed her and punched her companion back in the upper arm. Mabel turned from both of them, feeling all her hopes for new friendship beginning to sink. She watched the girl jump a couple more times, before finding herself unable to take a stand by any longer.

She marched over and removed the book which the girl had been attempting to reach. "Is this what you wanted?"

The girl averted her eyes as she took the book, and clung to it as though someone was planning to rip it from her hands and taunt her with it. "Yes and please. Sorry for wasting time."  
Mabel gave her best smile, hoping to coax some joy from the situation. "I'm sorry those guys were being jerks. I know how…how difficult it can be…"

The girl looked up shocked, and then dismissive. "I doubt pretty as you have experienced what I have."

Mabel wrung out her hands, feeling flattered yet distressed at being unable to provide comfort for this poor girl. She decided to just speak the truth and hope that this girl she didn't even know, believed her.

"I had to spend a month going to therapy."

The smaller teen looked up again, and Mabel continued, every word a struggle. "I had head gear, and it made people pick on me, and I…I freaked out and hurt somebody really bad. I know how difficult it is, to return to school…when everyone looks at you like you belong in a mental hospital. That's all…I…I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Sorry, I'll just go."

Mabel turned to do just that, but the younger teen grabbed her sweater sleeve. "Wait!"

The brunette looked over her shoulder, and found her companion fiddling with her hands and staring at the carpet. "I'm sorry people were like that to you. I'm sorry I act like a jerk to you."

Mabel smiled. "It's fine. What's your name? I'll be in town all summer, so maybe you and me can hang out."

The girl cleared her throat and looked embarrassed by her status as so obviously immigrant who spoke poor English. "Cho Jae Hun. Cho is a family name, Korean names backward."

Mabel nodded, embarrassed herself by the fact she would have trouble pronouncing such a name and had been ignorant up until this point to the placement of surnames. Then she spotted the candy wristband which her newfound friend was wearing.

"Is it alright if I just call you Candy?"

First, the girl frowned, then she smiled. "I never have a nickname before."

Mabel grinned like an idiot. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

 **[0]**

As Dipper drifted through town, eye still on descending sun, or occasionally to the city clock tower, he noticed something strange. Shops were closing up, doors were locking and windows were being shut. Something was definitely amiss, and Dipper kept a wary eye on those he passed.

But most of the townsfolk, however, were going about their normal business. Sheriff Calgary was flirting with Sandra Jimenz, owner of the town paper. A pickup truck carrying crates of potatoes trundled down Main Street, an apathetic farmer at the wheel, chewing on his cigar. Tobias was in a nearby alley, dealing with some 300-pound brute and presumably about to receive a broken nose.

Lazy-Eye Susan exited her diner in time to give him a sympathetic look as she passed. She was the first person in town he had ever talked to, admittedly he had been asking about the Fey, a subject which known of the townsfolk seemed willing to discuss (just like everything else strange and interesting the valley had to offer). According to Tobias, she had owned the Greasy Ladle, one of the town's two restaurants (the other being the Marble Trout, a high-class place where Dipper knew Gideon liked to visit) for the past _thirty years_. She had founded the diner with her husband, he knew this after asking about who the vintage photo over his favorite booth depicted.

Susan explained that it had been a dream of her husband, Jim, to own a diner like his father back in Ohio. But Jim had passed away eight years ago, not long after their three children had moved away to "better things", and Susan didn't have the heart to shut down the restaurant, regardless of the dwindling business. Despite having a dozen grandchildren, Susan rarely received correspondence, let alone visits. She lived all alone down by Lake Mortis, with several cats.

Her nickname was derived from the fact that she had a nervous system related issue with her right eye. She and Dipper had bonded during Mabel's frequent visits to the diner while working for Gideon, and Dipper had discovered that although Susan had spent the entirety of her life in this crummy town, she was much sweeter and smarter than the other townsfolk. He waved at her and made a mental note to visit soon.

He had been unable to visit during his stay at the hospital.

As he drew further into the town, the shadow of the statue erected to commemorate the town's founder, Quentin Trimble, fall over him. Tambry and Robbie sat on the steps of the statue, her attention held to the screen, his to the cracks in the concrete. Tambry snapped up when her eyes closed on him. One glance told him that she considered him just as horrific as everything else they had experienced that night so many days before.

He didn't give her a second look, although he could feel Robbie's eyes burning into the back of his skull.

The Gambeson clock tower stood close by, no doubt built to offer those who lounged on the steps of the statue an adequate look at the time. In the town's glory days, a fountain had been positioned between the statue and the clocktower, offering a place for children to play and flip coins into the water. Since then, the fountain had been removed, for reasons beyond Dipper.

Now all that lay was a huge bare spot in the pavement. Holes remained in the ground from where pipes had once sprouted from.

 **[0]**

Mabel returned to the front of the shop, and to Mavis, Brianna, and Paz, all of who were scowling at her. She took a deep breath and picked up the bag in which contained all the things she had bought.

Looking the other teenage girls in the eyes, she folded the bag under one arm. "Okay, what's the problem now? Am I going to be ostracized now, because I care about other people?"

Paz muttered something about being dramatic but her frustration disappeared when Mabel raised an eyebrow. She stepped closer and offered a broken smile. "Mabel, we're just worried that you're being too…trusting."

Mabel's grip on her paper bag tightened. "She's not gonna hurt me just because she-"

Brianna spoke up. "She's a perv, Mabes. The only reason she had that breakdown is because everyone found out she had been taking photos of Paz."

"W-What?"

Brianna continued, her eyes shifting onto Candy as the girl moved to the register. "Her room was filled with them. Everyone always knew she was weird, but we didn't know she was a creep until then."

Eyes wide, Mabel turned her attention to the blonde, hoping she would protest this story. But Pacifica was wearing a stone expression.

Mavis spoke up, playing with one of her pig-tails as she surveyed the floor. "I'm pretty sure now she's gotta thing for you too."

Mabel blinked quickly and glanced between Candy and Pacifica. "Well…isolating her isn't going to make it any better..."

Pacifica sighed. "Listen, we just don't want to see you be taken advantage of Mabel. C'mon, I'll drive you home."

They all headed out the front door, Mabel glancing between the door and back to Candy. The girl caught her look this time, and waved, giving a heartbreakingly sweet smile. Her eyes cast to the ground, Mabel exited the shop, feeling far worse than she had when she first entered the store.

 **[0]**

Dipper really needed to get back to The Shack before it turned dark. The sun was drawing vivid across the town, ever-deepening shadows pooling around the storefronts.

As this idea became assured, he spotted the library. It lay at the back of Main Street, its frame craning over the street and sidewalk. No buildings had been jammed up against it, giving room for the stone ions on either side of the library to give vigil across the town. The lateness of the hour caused the building to resemble a temple desperately approached on an eclipse.

Cars and bicycles passed, all headed towards the house and developments which were embedded further into the forest. Like actors fleeing the cardboard set of a town, all returning to their trailers and cabins.

The hill on which the whole town was built reached its highest point a mile away, where Dipper could see the Norwood mansion poking up from the trees. It reminded him of the Fair mansion, a place which he shuddered just thinking about.

Reaching the library doors, he eased it open and moved inside. The man at the front desk didn't give him a second glance, too busy he was sorting papers. Dipper, on the other hand, couldn't help but stare at the stuffed woodpecker which stood on the front of the desk.

The lights were dim and the place was clearly understaffed. But Mabel was right. The library of this town was awesome.

From the center, you could select your genre and type, or sit on one of the benches and read in the light provided by the domed skylight above. Twin spiral staircases allowed access to the second floor. Portraits, taxidermy animals, and even statues littered the walls of the building, each with a plaque describing information regarding them.

Dipper immediately moved to the History section, discovering that, much to his joy, most were about the town itself. In fact, an almost improbable amount of people had written about the formation and history of the town. But he shrugged this off, he wasn't in the mood to pursue that train of thought, and the valley's strange occurrences explained the attention well enough.

The town had been built in 1833, the original populace being a group of missionaries who had been led there by Trimble. Dipper had to admit, that the statue had been earned. Trimble was a hunter, explorer, and later a senator. He founded the town a full fifteen years before Oregon was established as a Territory and twenty-six years before it became a State. Dipper recognized his likeness as matching that of the statue in the town center.

Dipper wondered if, when people had first settled the area, they had known how different the valley was. There were accounts of strange goings on's since the beginning of the town. The books noted these accounts as most likely hallucination and superstition, but Dipper couldn't help but notice that there was no mention of the Fair family and their mansion. He supposed the building had always existed in this valley, in one form or another.

Quentin had at least, founded a group titled the "Brotherhood of the Watchful Eye", which might have helped protect people from the supernatural. It was an all men's club (naturally) formed of hunters and trappers, all devoted to protecting the town from wild animals and to "converting" natives to Christianity. Said Brotherhood, had even performed his funeral service after he went missing preceding failing to be re-elected to the position of senator.

Dipper did a double take when he saw the funeral photo, though.

Everyone, from the priest to the pallbearer's, was wearing pointed hoods. The men were all in blazers and had decided to take their rifles to the burial. The women meanwhile, were all in long dresses, as was appropriate for the time period, and were holding to the children, who too, were wearing hoods. It was like looking at a Klu Klux Klan employee photo.

Goosebumps ran up and down his back when he saw the note scribbled across the base of the Polaroid. It was written in the same handwriting as The Author's.

The words were even scarier in comparison to the picture. "IDEAS DO NOT DIE"

Somehow Dipper found those words more disturbing than anything else he'd stumbled upon in the town. Licking his lips, he grabbed everything related to the town history and stacked it on the table. Then he began flipping through the first book wildly, his eyes searching every page for further hints of The Author.

As rain pelted the skylight, Dipper removed his notebook, beginning to chronicle every clue he found. A rush of adrenaline struck as he heard that little voice in his head piecing together bits of information, creating a puzzle which had been laid out for him decades in advance.

He made a mental note to tell Mabel she was a genius for suggesting that he visit the library.

 **[0]**

Pacifica offered a smile, watching as Mabel climbed out of the limo. She ducked her head out, not minding the splash of rainwater against her well-combed locks.

"You'll call me, right?"

Mabel nodded sullenly, her eyes glued to the ground.

Closing the door, Pacifica watched the girl trudge up the stairs as they pulled away from the Pines residence. She turned to Mavis and her eyes narrowed.

"You had one job to do." Her cruelty landed on Brianna. "Both of you. If you had just shut up, then I would have her in the palm of my hand. But no! I can't get any fucking help because the two of you are such useless brats."  
They cowered; both babbling excuses in that way which only made the blonde angrier. "Shut up." She commanded; instantly receiving her wish.

"Now you two, are going to show up here tomorrow, on your hands and knees, and you're going to make some REALLY good excuses as to why you were being mean earlier. Then maybe, just maybe, I can salvage this."

They nodded, like bobbleheads, too stupid to do anything else. Mavis spoke up. "We'll make it seem like that little Chinese girl is a psycho."

"First off, she's Korean. Second off, that's a horrible fucking idea. Miss Rainbow-sparkles seems to have a soft spot for the little dyke. So butter her up, say that you were just worried about me. Make it seem like you want to help rehabilitate that nobody. Say that you are the problem."

Brianna spoke up. "But how are we gonna convince her-"

Pacifica jolted forward, grabbing her subordinate's chin and bringing her face close enough that her every mint flavored breath inducing the hairs on Brianna's face to rise. "Lie. Beg. Bribe. Forge. Lick her cunt and blow her retard of a brother; I don't care how you debase yourselves, just as long as you do whatever it takes."

She spat on Brianna, punching the girl in the stomach, and yelling for the driver to stop the car. Kicking open the limo door, she gestured to her companions. "Get out, and _walk_ back to that fire hazard waiting to happen."

Mavis complained. "But it's raining."

 _"_ 'Bwut it's waining!' Do you think I give a shit? Get out there and apologize to her, apologize to the little dyke, and get me back the trust which you whores have managed to rob me." She smirked. "Unless the two of you would like to go back to where I _found you_."

They leaped to their feet, both scrambling out of the car and into the pouring rain. Despite their heels, they made a decent pace, knowing better than to dawdle.

Pacifica slammed the door close and told the driver to take her home and send a limo to pick her "friends" up when they got there. Rubbing her forehead, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.

 _Not now. Oh please, not now._

She removed the phone and brought it to her ear. "Hey, dad. Yeah, the whores I hired screwed up. Don't worry, they're in damage control right now. Yes, I'm going to punish them. What, do you think I'm going to be a pushover? Yes, I know how important this is to you. Uh huh."

There was a long pause on her end of the conversation as she listened to her father list the severity of the situation. "Alright, I love you too dad."  
She said the last bit with the spite which only a person communicating with their warden might say. Then she closed the phone and collapsed against the seating of the limo, every ounce of will used to not start crying right then and there.

 **[0]**

Dipper had discovered more and more notes ever since finding the first. They weren't just in the one book either. The Author had left his mark all over the history section, each message more dizzying and compelling than the last.

Just as his head began to feel fuzzy, the woodpecker-man had moved to his side.

"Closing time sir."

Looking up from the book, Dipper nodded and was too tired to see the malice in the man's eyes. The teen showed himself out, and he discovered that he had missed his self-appointed deadline. It was black as pitch. One glance at his phone had told him that it was 8:20, and the chilliness of the air caused him to hug his arms to his chest as he speed-walked through the town center.

The heavy rain had begun to die off, and now but a drizzle struck Dipper Pines as he walked. He didn't bother trying to stay in the spots where the rain couldn't reach him, however. It felt good to have the cold water traveling down his neck, it kept him alert and shivering.

His eyes searched the alleys which he passed and looked over his shoulder more than once. The street lamps illuminated the bare minimum only, creating clones of light in the musky darkness. As a result, Dipper raced between each light, his heart beginning to pump excessively.

He had to stop when he reached the edge of town, and the street lights reached their end. Peering into the darkness, he was reminded of the Pink Floyd song he used to play on repeat while doing homework.

 _Is there anybody out there?_

His question was answered when, in the distance, he heard the pounding of drums and the gallop of horses. Dipper broke into a sprint, his legs aching as he dashed towards The Shack, his feet kicking up bits of asphalt which had broken off of the road. The drumming and galloping grew louder, and he broke into the woods, climbing over logs and hoping brooks to keep pace.

As the drumming reached its most pivotal, Dipper saw a dozen orange lights dancing up ahead, and curved his path to duck behind a redwood. He glanced out, once, and spotted a dozen people, all on horseback, all carrying torches.

And all wearing hoods just like the Brotherhood of Protection. They were chanting and drumming, driving their horses in a circle around a burning flag. His heart froze, and his eyes locked on the effigy.

It was identical to the eye symbol which he kept seeing in the Journal.

A hand grabbed him and tore him from the sight. Dipper struck the muddy ground, and before he could rise, a boot had pressed against his shoulders.  
His captor spoke in a horrible hiss, sharp and cutting. "What do you think you're doing, _boy?_ Out _prowling_ in the middle of the night, stickin' your nose where it doesn't belong."  
He didn't get a good look at his attacker, but could tell from the voice that it was a man, and could tell from the force of the boot on his back that it was large and viscous one too.

"BROTHERS! I 'ave found an intruder to our peaceful Eden, a prying eye."

Dipper tried to reach for a rock but received a kick to the stomach. "Keep still Boy, and you might walk away from this alive. Tarred and feathered, but alive…"  
His breathing became labored and his throat clogged with phlegm. Dipper didn't know if that statement was this man's version of a joke, but considering how torturous he knew the tarring and feathering process to be, he didn't want to find out.

Galloping alerted him that the others were approaching, and when Dipper tried to choke out words, he received another kick. The cultists dismounted and stumbled about muttering to one another as they tried to decide what to do with the infidel in their midst.

Dipper was too busy trying to recover his breath so that he could scream for help, to truly pay attention to their discussion. But he did catch a couple names.

"Nathan" appeared to be the name of the man who had him pinned under foot, while "Bud", was the only person arguing that hurting him might not be such a good idea. They didn't all sound murderous, in fact, half of them sounded like the kind of people who clustered into city halls and argue over trivial laws. Of course, in this case, they were arguing over whether to torture him to teach him a lesson or hang him from the nearest tree.

Just as Dipper regained his breath, they stood him up, one slapping a bony hand over his mouth. The barrel of a shotgun rested against Dipper's spleen, as the group formed a circle around him. Dipper could hear the smile in Nathan's voice as he held a torch beneath the teen's chin and leaned his hood in close. The fabric was blood red, Dipper could now see, and each one had the same strange symbol on it.

"Just wait until Ivan meets you."

Dipper found himself unable to do anything other than implore to be let go with his eyes, but his silent prayers were answered when a voice rang out through the dark.  
"HEY BOYS!" The figures turned, half of the circle practically jumping in shock.

It was Stan. He was holding an old lantern in one hand, and had a shotgun cocked towards the ground, pressed against his side by his right arm. "I heard my nephew and figured I might end some of the confusion. I would hate to see you boys get in trouble with the authorities over a simple misunderstanding."  
They exchanged glances, and Nathan growled, stepping towards Stan, who had continued to march towards them, now stopping to pat one of their horses.

"Now see here, Mr. Pines-!"

"We're on a first-name basis Nat. Mr. Pines is my father anyhow, and I'd hate to be referred to like him." Stan stopped in front of the circle, turning his attention to Dipper. "Hey Dipshit, what did I tell you about wandering around in the woods." He leaned towards the man who was gripping Dipper, speaking out the side of his mouth, "Sorry about this Mark, he's my nephew's retarded son."

Seamlessly, the con man slid an arm between Dipper's holder and the teen himself. Then he turned the teen towards the road, continuing to insult Dipper with everything in the book, and even slapping his nephew upside the head.

"I told you not to leave the house Dipshit! Sorry once again boys, I'll thrash him thoroughly when I get him back to my house. You continue with your sacred rites and whatnot."  
Stan kicked his nephew in the ankle to encourage quicker movement and Dipper complied with little more than pained cry. Before he knew it, the two of them had exited the woods, and Stan was rounding the side of his car. Dipper slid into the passenger seat, rubbing a hand across his back and not bothering to pull the seat belt across his chest.

"Thank you-"

"If you're going to act like an idiot, you may as well carry one of these." Stan offered a revolver as he hit the gas.

Dipper stared at the gun for a long moment, before taking it. Stan glanced his way and then turned his eyes to the road. "I had a friend a long time ago…a really good friend who wanted to explore. He wanted to see all the world had to offer."

Dipper stared at the gun, the world turning to slow motion as Stan curved down a dirt road. "He was so smart, so ready to take on anything." Stan heaved the kind of sigh which Dipper had heard about five times a day from his own father.

It was the sigh of a man who regretted not ending his own existence right then and there, every time he crawled into bed.

"But he wasn't careful. He didn't…consider the variables. He put his trust…" Stan looked ready to cry, and Dipper wondered if he was riding with the same old man from this morning. "…in the wrong people. And I lost him."

Dipper cleared his throat but chose not to speak when Stan shot him a look. The con artist took a moment to compose himself and then parked in front of The Shack. "I know that you are going to put yourself in danger no matter what I say. I'm not going to stop you. But for the sake of your sister, you need to be more careful." Dipper looked away, feeling a little ashamed for not considering this earlier. "I know you'd sooner die than put her in danger…but if something happened to you, she'd be a wreck. I can't say the same for your parents but know that I…uh…" Stan licked his lips. "…I'd miss you."

Dipper kept his eyes on the dashboard and the shadows of the raid drops which collected on the windshield. He managed to get out "I'll be more careful."

Stan coughed, clearing his throat of sentimentality. "Good. Great. And uh…well, you kind of remind me of myself…when I was uh, younger…and-and I know that…growing up is the toughest thing in the world for guys like us. So if you ever have a problem, whether its girls or…something else…heh, I'll be happy to share a beer with you, if it'll take your mind off it."

Dipper returned Stan's awkward gesture with a close-lipped smile. "Thanks, Uncle Stan."  
Stan smirked and unbuckled himself. "But only after hours. I can't have a drunk fifteen-year-old stumbling about my shop."

Dipper nodded sarcastically, expecting as much. "Sure thing."

 **[0]**

Gideon combed his hair. Since the destruction of the stone, he had begun growing at about six months a day, and he suspected that the process would only grow in speed. He hummed to himself the song playing in the corner.

Call him a sucker for nostalgia, but he still preferred record players to any other kind of music players.

"Irene, Goodnight…Irene, Goodnight…" He muttered as he inspected his twelve-year-old teeth. He needed to floss better.

"Goodnight, Irene, Goodnight, Irene…I'll see you in my dreams." The song reminded him of his sister, but also of his love, Mabel. He couldn't count the how many times he had dreamed of her.

There was a knocking at his trailer door, and he heard Bergmann call to him. "The Beast it's…it's very angry, Sir!"

Gideon groaned. His command to starve the creature until the harvest festival had made it become enraged. He opened the door and glared down at his subordinate, who looked a little shocked by Gideon's appearance. The warlock had spent the entire day in his trailer.

"Unless it breaks free of its cage…DON'T BOTHER ME."  
She wilted, and he turned away, slamming the door close and staring back at his mirror. He fixed his tie and ran a hand across the photo pinned to his mirror.

It was her. Laughing.

Drawing a hand across it, he was interrupted again when Miss Grey entered the trailer. "We have reports that she was seen today with Pacifica Norwood."  
"Ah, so the games have finally begun, have they?" He turned her way, and snapped his fingers, causing the spinning needle to raise itself and end continuation of the melody. "Schedule an appointment with Mr. Preston Norwood. I want to have a few words with him."

Miss Grey nodded and rushed out, Gideon watching her leave and breathing in the night air. It was a nice night. He would have to finish his costume tonight.

He wanted to be festive in time for the massacre after all.

 **[0]**

Mabel sat at the kitchen table, staring at her new contacts. "Ugggh…" She slumped her head onto the table and groaned loud enough to attract the attention of Wendy.

The cashier girl had been packing up to leave, just short of zipping up her coat and exiting the shop. She gave Mabel a sympathetic look and approached.

"Aw cheer up kiddo." The redhead sat down at the kitchen table and offered her joint when Mabel looked up.

The younger of the two shook her head and spoke with her head on top of her arms. "I'd love to. It's everybody else who is the problem."

Wendy shrugged, drawing a long puff and raising her boots onto the table. "I'm guessing that the day didn't go as expected?"

Mabel lay her head back onto the table and spoke against the wood. "I'm just tired, Wendy. I'm tired of nothing being simple, I'm tired of people lying to me. I'm tired of having to act like an adult."

Wendy nodded along, taking another long puff before saying anything. "Then don't."

Mabel raised her head an inch, "What do you mean?"

"Don't act like an adult, that's what I mean. It fucking sucks. All your time is wasted worrying about this and that. It's not useful, it doesn't make you any happier. You do, whatever the _fuck_ you want Mabel Pines…because you deserve to be happy…and if it blows up in your face…you'll be able to handle it."

Mabel stared at her companion for a long moment, and then a smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you."

The redhead smirked, "Well, I-"

Mabel jumped up, wrapping her arms around Wendy, before running off towards her room.

Wendy watched her go with a raised eyebrow. A barrage of knocking at the front door drew the redhead's attention. She drew her hand down to her belt, her finger drawing across the blade of the ax. She eased the door open, knowing that no one with good intentions would come calling at this hour.

Before Brianna or Mavis could form words, Wendy removed the hatchet from her belt and raised it into view. "If you two lie to Mabel one more time, then I am going to _cut you_ a new hole. Tell Blondie to stay the fuck away from her and Dipper."  
They exchanged glances, before nodding and descending the stairs in a half-crazed manner. Wendy slammed the door close and found that McGucket was staring at her.

He was in another one of his sane moods, she could tell from his eyes. When he spoke, it was with the voice of a much younger man. "You're becoming attached to them."

Wendy locked her hatchet back to her belt without looking his way and spoke in a breathy voice. "Shut up."

He sighed. "You're only endangering yourself."

Turning towards him, she pulled out her blade and held it in front of his face. "I'm playing my part just perfectly. Why don't you focus on the only thing your good for?"  
McGucket didn't even look the least bit threatened. He just shook his head and moved to the front door. Wendy turned away, feeling a knot begin to tie in her stomach as, for the millionth time that day, she reflected on what a horrible person she was to use the twins like this.

It didn't matter, though. There were more important bonds, bonds which ran deeper than guilt could ever reach. And as long as she kept telling herself that, it would be easier and easier to lead them to the slaughter.

* * *

 **Code: _Hrm vcrhgh zh olmt zh gsviv ziv gslhv gl kvikvgizgv._**

 **The song "Goodnight, Irene", was first recorded by Huddie 'Lead Belly' Ledbetter.**

 ** _Now for a little game_ : **

**What do you think _Dipper Pines_, afraid of?**

 **What do you think _Mabel Pines_, afraid of?**

 **What do you think _Wendy_, is afraid of?**

 **What do you think _Stan Pines_, is afraid of?**

 **Up soon: Summerween!**

 **So this episode wasn't as intense as the others, partly because I wanted to introduce characters and information in a less intense fashion, this time, around, and partly because the next few episodes are going to be horror on steroids. I thought Dipper and Mabel needed a little escape from all that, or else they might go off the deep end (and not the deep end of the public pool).**

 **Not to mention, it's about damn time they bonded with Stan. They have to care about him so that they can feel extra betrayed later on.**

 **Just so you guys know, I'm not a big fan of Pacifica and Dipper, and since this is a _horror_ story, romance is not going to play a big part. So don't be disappointed if certain people don't hook up with other people. That's life. Sides, these characters have bigger fish to fry and subjects to worry about. **

**The name of the story is Depravity Falls, so if you think that any sexual tension is going to be a _good_ thing for the characters, then you are sorely mistaken.**

 **Q &A _:_**

 _Questions from ghost117239_

 _"I liked the new update, and can't wait for another one. If you decide to do season 2, how would you picture Wierdmageddon playing out?"_

 **Remember that apocalypse dream in the first chapter? Bingo.**

 _"Also, will Dipper eventually smoke weed, and will Robbie and Wendy break up like in the episode in "Boyz Crazy", but for a different reason?"_

 **Weed isn't Dipper's thing, so probably not. Robbie and Wendy's relationship will end for different reasons than in the show.**

 **Comments** :

 _"Not going to lie, that's an insane warp for Gideon and truly fitting in the most terrifying way. The knowledge on Northwests is interesting, and while I can see the points on Pacifica making her snap, it's possible the snap goes both ways. Steel sharpens steel after all so them basically becoming allies in that if nothing else would be intense. I would just love the kids taking down her parents honestly and then take her in._ "~ _The Keeper of Worlds_

 **Dipper would have serious issues with trusting her in a living environment. Things will definitely get worse for Paz and Mabel's relationship before they get better.**

" _Nice, very nice (and VERY long as well). I have no problem if you decide to do a Time Travel-centric episode, so if you want to then go ahead and do it (just...try not to mess up our minds a la Bioshock Infinite please)."_ ~ _IsmaelParica_

 **Thank you for the praise! I'm considering it, although the idea borders on ripping off Lovecraft. I promise, though, that if I did time travel, it would not be on the same level as Bioshock Infinite in terms of complexity. I would become confused by what I was writing if that was so. XD**


	5. Short: Dipper and Mabel's guides

**_Hopefully, this will tide you guys over until I finish the Summerween episode. It's three-quarters done already, but I wanted to put this out first._**

* * *

 **Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained 1#:** **Lake Mortis**

 _Entry 1_ :

"Okay, it's on."

"Great! Hey, internet, it's me, Mabel Pines!"

"Alright, we're starting over."

"What? Oh, poop."

 _Entry 2_ :

"Okay, it's on."  
"Hello, people of the internet! My name is Mabel Pines, and this here is Dipper."

"Mabel, we're going to use my real name for this."  
"What? But…"

"I know it's kind of weird, but these are the sacrifices you have to make if you want to be taken seriously."

"…taken seriously…in the area of cryptozoology?"

"Great! Now we're going to have to start over."

"Fine with me, my hair is getting all weird from the humidity."

"You know what, maybe I should do this on my own."

 _Entry 6_ :

"Hey, people of the internet! Dipper hasn't allowed me to help be near the camera since he started investigating the weird disappearances near Morris Lake or whatever it's called. But, he's in the shower right now…so I figured…what's the harm in a little Mabel time?"

"Mabel! Are you using that camera?"

"Uhhh…no?"

"That was too many 'uhhhs', you are using it, aren't you…"

"…if I don't say no then it isn't a lie."

"MABEL! That's it…"

"No, Dipper! Everyone will see your bare chest!"

 _Entry 11_ :

"Wendy, should you be smoking that as I ask you about this?"

"Aw, cmon Dip, it's not like anyone is going to report me."

"I guess…"  
"Are you gonna interview me, or should is that clipboard for something else?"

"Oh, right. Umm, Question 1; when was the first time that you heard about the disappearances regarding the lake?"

"My dad told me a campfire story about it. His father had been out fishing with a couple guys when they started hearing weird sounds coming from shore. After that, this storm appeared out of nowhere and the boat nearly capsized on them. Apparently, gramps never went fishing again."

"Okay, question 2; Have you ever known anyone who has been a victim of the disappearances?"

"Hmmm…Robbie had an uncle, who I think…had a friend, whose wife disappeared."

"Well, that's real personal fourth-hand information."

"Hey! That's all, I know about."

"Sorry. Okay, the last question; Many people have reported seeing strange lights and hearing voices echoing through the woods which surround that area. Do you believe that these tales are mostly exaggeration and myth, or reflect that there is something abnormal in or around the lake."

"Me and my brother's used to spend every Fourth of July fishing on that lake. As far as I'm concerned, it's the most normal body of water I know of."

 _Entry 12_ :

"In the last video, the interviewee said that you, Robert Valentino, has an uncle who had a friend, whose wife went missing by the lake. Can you confirm or deny this?"

"It was actually my cousin."  
"Your cousin had a friend who-"

"No, moron. My cousin was the wife who went missing. She and the love of her life were hanging out by the family house, next to the waterfall. She popped out for a smoke and…well she hasn't been seen since."

"Did you and she have a strong personal bond?"

"No. I mean…she introduced me to my first cigarette…she was the only cool one in the family. But other than that, no."

"Alright, then. We can skip the questions, I would just like to know-"

"Hey, Dweeb, does anyone really watch this crap?"

"…I haven't uploaded it yet. I want more information before I bring the phenomena to light."

"Well, then, you can edit this part out; DIPPER PINES IS A SQUIRMY FREAK!"

"STOP THAT!"

 _Entry 13_ :

"Okay, Stan Pines, you have lived in this town for the last thirty years, correct?"

"Uh huh."

"Could you…not drink beer as I ask you questions? People are going to think that you are drunk and deluded."

"Aren't you sciencey types supposed to stay objective by not interfering with the conditions or some shit like that?"

"That's for testing. Not interviewing people, you're supposed to collect unbiased information."

"Well, right now I'm feeling pretty biased."

"Fine. Now, you've lived here for thirty years."  
"Already established…"

"In that time, could you tell me how many people have gone missing in the area surrounding the lake?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, again, you lived here-"

"Yeah, yeah, but I don't associate with the hicks who live in this town. They are a bunch of weirdos."

"So, in all, this time, you have never seen any missing posters? Never heard any amber alerts regarding your area?"

"Yup."

"Ugggh…"

 **[0]**

Dipper snapped off the camera, and Stan eyed him as he began packing it into its case. "You're not going to go investing the lake, are you?"

"Why? According to you, nothing strange has ever happened there." Dipper replied without looking up.

Stan turned his attention to the receding sunlight, leaning into his rocking chair and taking a sip of his Newcastle before he continued. "Nothing has. I just don't want you getting in trouble with the white boy league."

"What? You do you mean the Brotherhood of-"

"I don't give a shit about what they call themselves Dipper. I'm just worried that you are not being careful…like we discussed yesterday."

Dipper sat down beside the camera case, his legs crossing under one another as he slid the tape recorder into the case's pouch. "I am being careful. But how am I supposed to be careful if I don't assess threats towards me and Mabel."

Stan took another sip and removed his glasses. With his suit collar, he rubbed the lenses. "I assume you told her about last night then?"

Dipper let out a long sigh. "I'll tell her tonight, after dinner. I want to have more information about them first."

"Fair enough. Just don't wait too long. Things have a way of…piling up here."

Dipper nodded, jumping to his feet and ambling inside. Local television played from the living room, as Mabel sat in front of the couch with a bowl of popcorn greater which she probably could have swum in if she really tried. Wendy shared Stan's recliner with Robbie, flipping between channels and occasionally stopping to make fun of whatever religious nut ball was screaming about the end of the world.

Stopping behind the recliner, Dipper cleared his throat. "Robbie, could I speak with you in the kitchen?"

The older teen gave him a look which would have intimidated anyone who had not been chased by a faerie. Groaning, Robbie told his girlfriend that he would be back soon and followed Dipper into the kitchen. He crossed his arms as Dipper sat down.

"I don't know anything else about my cousin's disappearance…" He sneered, pulling back towards the living room in hopes of being left alone.  
"That's not what I wanted to ask you about."

Exhaling exaggeratedly, he turned back towards Dipper. "This better not be about We-"  
"Have you heard of the Brotherhood of the Watchful Eye?"

Robbie's breath caught, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Where did you hear about them?"

"I stumbled upon them in the middle of the night and they almost kidnapped me."

The teen snickered, but caught himself when he saw Dipper's expression. "Sorry. I know how intimidating those guys can be. But as far as I know, they were probably just screwing around with you. They haven't done anything violent, let alone illegal in years."

Dipper frowned, and Robbie, realizing he would be able to get out of this conversation soon, sat down, placing his mud-coated boots on the table and leaning against Stan's twelve-year-old fridge.

"My great grandad was one. The Norwoods hired them as union busters, they're whole, shtick about 'American values' was just a front for them to gain control of the city council and school."  
"Is the mayor one of them?"

Robbie shrugged. "Probably. Plenty of people have memberships, they just don't show up for the book burnings. The priest my family used to go to…Father Nathaniel I believe, he was an active member. The sermons he used to give had a lot about how women don't know their place anymore and how society has become polluted with sin and perversion. If guys like him could get their hands on power, they wouldn't think twice about using it to push their fascist agenda." He removed a cigarette, setting the tip aflame and stashing the pack away in his coat. "They don't though. During the eighties, they made a fortune on crack, but nowadays, they're a lot like the KKK or the Mafia. They don't have nearly as much power as they would like everyone to believe."

Dipper raised an eyebrow. "You know that the Mafia still has a lot of power right?"

Robbie shrugged. "Why did you want to know? The less you know about those guys, the better."

Dipper glanced at the living room. "I want to know what Mabel and I should do to avoid coming in contact with them."  
Robbie's expression softened, and he stood with eyes downcast. "Sorry."

Dipper looked his way, but he still avoided eye contact. "I'm sorry I beat you up. I was worried…about losing Wendy. She's the reason that I…that I left home to begin with. She changed my life, made me see the world the way it really was. She was telling me all about how you showed up the Fair family, and the look in her eye…" Dipper's eyes widened, and he leaned to see that Wendy was currently braiding Mabel's hair. "…I was afraid you were gonna take her away from me."

The younger of the two stood up, the picture of confusion. "But…I'm only fifteen, I can't even drive…I'm an anti-social nerd…I've never kissed a girl let alone _stolen_ her from anyone. I'm the opposite of her. I'm all, methodical and boring. She…she _clearly_ likes fast stuff, exciting stuff."  
Robbie took a deep breath. "You care. That's all that matters. The only thing I care about anymore is her and not ending up like my folks. She believes that you…you have ambition, creativity…that you've been beaten to a pulp, but you never give in. She can respect that."

He turned to leave, and Dipper, biting his lip as he examined these words reached out, not moving closer but beckoning for Robbie to stay a moment more. "Wait!"  
"Oh, what now?" The sarcastic vileness had returned to his voice.

"Why did you apologize? After all, this time, I was sure that you were going to never say you're sorry for assaulting me."  
Robbie sighed and ran a hand across the back of his neck. "I heard about how much you cared for your sister…when you mentioned the reason why you wanted to know. Until now, I thought you didn't care about anything but being the hero. But I…I once had a sister who was the only person who made me happy." He looked to the kitchen tiles as he said this bit. "I just did a shittier job at protecting her from the world."

Then he turned away, and Dipper was left with that thought; that Robbie had once been like him. What would he become if he ever lost Mabel? The very idea was chilling, the kind of idea which he spent all day keeping out of his head.

"Hey, Dipper! What were you guys talking about?" His twin poked her head into the kitchen, a bit of worry in her eyes.

 _Speak of the devil._ "I just wanted a little information and he obliged."

Mabel grew less worried and more confused. "Did you…threaten him?"

"No! Of course not, why would I do that?"

Mabel shrugged. "I dunno, when Robbie sat down next to Wendy, he looked like he had seen a ghost. Are you sure you didn't say anything which might scare him?"

Dipper shook his head, then he sat down. "Hey…Mabel…do you…want to fool around with the camera? We can talk about whatever you want to."

Surprised, she gave him a smile which almost made his troubles melt away. "I'd love to bro-bro. Just let me get my makeup, we can do a tutorial with your face!"  
He called after her as she ran up the staircase. "I didn't agree to that!"

 **Mabel's tips for life 1#: Parents**

"Hello, people of the internet! Today, we're going to talk about parents! Now, parents can frequently be frustrating…they make a lot of decisions which you don't really understand."

 **[0]**

 _Candy crossed the log which had fallen over the quickly winding brook. "I don't know why my parents move me to America. Just thinking about it, makes me feel like a failure. They quit jobs so I can go to the place which didn't require as much of me." She paused. "No offenses?"_

 _Mabel chuckled. "I'm sure they had more reasons than just that. I mean, maybe they knew how lonely you were and thought this was an opportunity for you to make friends."_

 _Candy leaped off onto the other side of the brook, giving her friend a skeptical look. "They wanted me to make friends with people can't understand me?"_

 _Mabel hopped down in front of her, reaching out and taking Candy's hands. The girl blushed but did not protest as Mabel drew her into a one armed hug by draping her left arm over Candy's shoulders. "You met me, didn't you?"_

 **[0]**

"But most of it…is because they love you."

 **[0]**

 _Wendy burst into the shop, her face red as she leaped over the desk and sat down. She began growling to herself, whispering a variety of insults and threats which Mabel was unacquainted with. Had Mabel not known better, she would have said that Wendy was speaking in an entirely different language._

 _The fifteen-year-old turned away from re-stocking the shelves and moved to the desk. "Is something…bothering you?"_

 _"Yeah, my dad is a fucking idiot."_

 _Mabel winced. "I see."_

 _"He won't let me go on a trip with my friends. I mean cmon, I'm practically eighteen. Can't he just let me use the pick-up next weekend? What a joke."_

 _Mabel let out a sigh. "Maybe he's worried about you, I mean, you did almost die last time you went on a trip with your friends."_

 _"That wasn't a trip Mabel that was an outing."_

 _Mabel's skeptical expression drew a sigh out of Wendy. "I just…I can't believe that he still isn't treating me like an adult. I have a job. I have my own van. It's just so dumb."_

 _"Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you remind him…of your mother…" Wendy looked up, startled that Mabel knew about her mother. "…and he's afraid what happened to her…is going to happen to you."_

 _Wendy looked ready to give a counterpoint but then stopped. She leaned back, staring at a spot on the counter. Mabel shrugged and turned away, returning to the work Stan had instructed her to do._

 **[0]**

"Not always…though. Some people…some people aren't made to be parents...and because of it, their children suffer. And the sooner we accept that…the better it will be for everyone."

 **[0]**

 _Mabel sat at one of the café's only outside tables. She turned when Pacifica, standing just twenty feet away with a phone to her ear, started screaming. Getting to her feet, she watched as Pacifica snapped the phone shut and let out a screech of frustration._

 _As she marched back over to Mabel, the brunette spotted the hot tears rolling down her perfect cheeks. Mabel didn't bother asking if she was okay. She stood and reached out._

 _Pacifica flinched as her finger brushed away her tears. She raised her head to tell Mabel to stop._

 _Then she saw the other teen's expression. The understanding, the gentleness of her gaze. She had never met someone who had said "I understand why you are this way, and I'm sorry", but this girl had managed to say just that without opening her eyes._

 _"There we go," Mabel said as she lowered her hand. "Do you want me to fix your make-up."  
Pacifica couldn't do anything but sit down across from her and nod._

 **[0]**

"And some parents…they aren't abusive or manipulative. They're not even neglectful. They just…don't try hard enough."

 **[0]**

 _"Sorry Dipper, I've got a dinner with the boss. We can practice your baseball some other time."_

 _"Stop playing with your hair Mabel, it's ungainly."_

 _"Now you know that a B on your report card is an unacceptable young man. You're going to try harder, correct?"_

 _"Mabel, I'll look at your picture later. Right now my show is on."_

 _"There is no monster in your closet."_

 _"It can't possibly hurt that much, calm yourself."_

 _"Stop wasting your brother's time, he's got homework. There will be plenty of time for making friends in summer."_

 _"Stop filling your sister's head with silly ideas."_

 **[0]**

"But that's okay because the people who you're born with aren't the ones that matter."

 **[0]**

 _Seven-year-old Mabel peeked out the bedroom, tears running down her face as she listened to the yells. They seemed unending, a vicious cycle in which each duelist tore each other apart more with each second._

 _"Mabel? Why are you up?" Dipper climbed down from the top bunk, a position he had volunteered for after Mabel had been too scared of the height._

 _She turned his way, the light from downstairs revealing her tears to him. "Dipper, why are momma and Daddy fighting? Did I do something wrong?"_

 _Dipper let out a long sigh and then took her hand, leading her back over to their bunk bed. "No, you didn't. They're just angry at one another."_

 _He helped her back into bed, wiping her eyes and pulling the blanket over her. She sniffed, staring at the bottom of the bunk. "D-Dipper?"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Can you sleep with me tonight?"_

 _Dipper gave a nod, and then shut the door, sliding into bed beside her. "And can you tell me one of your stories?"_

 _Dipper gave a small smile and began recounting a story about knights and dragons, goblins and trolls, and a little girl named Mabel who conquered it all. The two had fallen asleep within the hour._

 **[0]**

"The only ones who matter, are the ones who take care of you."

* * *

 ** _Barring any natural disasters, Summerween will be out by the end of the weekend. Had to re-write one part. Also, this is process wears me out._**


	6. S1, E5: Trick or Treat Part 1

**Episode 5: Trick or Treat**

* * *

Wendy sat on a playground swing, her own legs swaying above the sand which had been placed to soften falls and trips. Beside her Dipper swung with the breeze, his eyes stayed on the valley below them, just like her. In her mouth was joint, but she didn't bother to puff. The scene was too serene to interrupt with such trivialities.

Since bearing witness to her own mother's death, Wendy found herself been unable to relax. Visions of everything which could possibly go wrong had plagued every night since that gruesome one, and the crippling anxiety only grew as she became older. The feeling caused her to drop out of school; as she had been unable to stand the ambivalence of everyone else towards their quickly decaying lives. Not long after that, she had begun working for Stan.

He had been the one who introduced her to Marijuana, even supplying her with some after she aided him in covering his tracks. Even as she acted apathetic towards the whole world, hanging out with the world's biggest losers and screwing the most violent boy in town, they still rang out in her subconscious.

Slowly, day by day, the routine had dulled the pain. The possibilities to face mutilation or death became less prevalent as she found herself with no reason to get up in the morning.

Then they had come. Dipper with his determined mind and adoring nature. Mabel with her energetic disposition and unwavering optimism. The two of them were unstoppable. She had seen for herself, how they conquered problems, how they leaned on one another _always_.

And now, sitting here, watching as the clouds drifted across the clear blue sky, and listening to the birds which chirped from the endless chain of telephone wires that ran across the world, it was all gone. The fear, the loathing, and the emptiness.

She felt warm and full finally. She felt free of guilt.

Dipper leaned towards her. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?"

The illusion was broken, as she remembered why she had brought him up here in the first place. "Oh right…"

He needed to know how dangerous that girl his sister was hanging out with was. He needed to know so that he could protect her if Wendy ever wasn't there. But not protect her because she was a person. Protect her because she was vital to _The Plan_ , a cog in the machine which would fulfill the redhead's wish.

"I wanted to tell you…"

She looked his way and trailed off when she found the swing empty. It brushed backward and forwards, the chains rusty and the seat torn from them. She leaped up, feeling an unmistakable chill run up and down her spine.

A thick fog poured into the world, swirling around every playground item. The bird song had ceased, the blue sky disappearing behind overcast. Her paradise had turned to hell over the course of seconds.

She spotted the merry-go-round. Ancient and uninhabited though it may be, it circled on its own, every bit of it squealing with rust exposed to the world by the paint which had chipped off. A creak weighed upon the rubber play bridge, as though some troll had just leaped up from the fog and scampered across it.

The tire swing had disappeared, or well, at least the tire part of it had. The rope swung above a divot in the earth, frayed and soaked.

The van, her _van_ , the van in which she had driven them up here, had disappeared. She remembered parking it beside the large stones which blocked some idiot from driving into the playground. But it was gone. There weren't even tracks in the mud as far as she could see.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and she turned, to find that her swing now had an occupant. A little girl in a sky blue dress, with red hair and green eyes. She played with a straw doll, only glancing up when Wendy's breathing increased.

Her eyes fixed on the teen, and she grinned. "It's alright. You won't be afraid much longer. The Tall Man is coming to take the little girls and boys away. To the great big beyond where the sun don't shine and there ain't no yesterday."

Wendy backed away, a horrible inkling forming in her mind. She knew the little girl. She knew what The Tall Man was, or at least, she had heard that rhyme before and knew that it was not a silly nursery rhyme. It was a warning, the only one she would get before a creature black as pitch arrived to tear her open.

The girl giggled. "You make funny faces when you're scared."  
Wendy shook her head. "This is just a dream, this is just a dream…any second now…I'm going to wake up…"

The girl giggled again, harder and crueler this time. She locked eyes with Wendy. "How can you wake up…if there is nothing to wake up to?"

A hand, cold as Oregon winters in the dead of night, closed on her shoulder. Giggles filled the air, the creature's breath feeling wet and hot against the back of her neck.

The claw dug into her shoulder, as the monster's closed its mouth around her neck.

Wendy woke up screaming, sweat seeping through her wife beater. For a moment her eyes glared into the darkness, struggling to find some semblance of physicality. Then she tasted iron, and it brought her to reality.

Her lips had cracked, blood running down it in across her chin. She had broken the skin in the middle of the night, a result of her thrashing.

"What the fuck are you doing? Go back to sleep, jeezus fucking Christ."  
It was Robbie. The boy whose cum had dried against her stomach.

Her heart returned to a regular pace. Reality had come to her. She was lying in the back of her van, on top of the mattress which she had stolen for occasions just like this. The sun had still not risen, and the open windows of the van informed her that the night air was muggy as hell.

Everything was fine. Everything was as it should be.

Wendy lay back down and cried out when the back her neck touched the cotton of her pillow. One brush of the hand informed her that the skin in that region had been torn up pretty badly. Mosquitos buzzed as blood pulsated against her fingers.

 **[0** **]**

Pacifica awoke to the sound of whispers outside her bedroom door.

This was not a particularly surprising development. Her father made deals with some of the most despicable people which the world had to offer, and her mother enjoyed the thrill of perhaps getting caught with one of her various lovers. What was surprising was that Pacifica could not identify the whoever was speaking with her father.

He usually held council with the same people, often just before sunrise. As a small girl, when she was naive to the true nature of her father's job, Pacifica had named these people in her head based off of their characteristics. There was "The Tattoo-Faced Man", "The Man with the Strange Cane" (by far the most normal of all them), and the "Woman without a Nose" (Pacifica had always run from that woman, terrified by the hungry looks which she gave), among others. People of all walks of life; mob bosses, politicians, cult leaders, archeologists, police officers, thieves, voodoo doctors, psychologists, bounty hunters, CEO's, and freak show owners.

All of them came calling, most were turned away without pay for whatever service it was that her father desired. Those with more power were always threatened/endeared, and she knew that someone of importance coming when Alphonse, the butler, broke out the good wine.

She had only ever asked who they were once, and it had been referring to "The Man with Scales." Despite his cold demeanor, the man had looked sympathetic when her father grabbed her and began punishing her right there in the lounge for interrupting their conversation and for being inquisitive.

The Scaly Man hadn't moved to stop his partner as Pacifica was dragged off to the Punishment Room, despite being in some position devoted towards "protecting the peace", and for that, she hated him most. He had been the only one out of all the bizarre visitors to witness her punishments.

But this person was a total stranger. For one thing, he three times younger than most of the people who her father communicated with. For a second thing, he had a distinct southern drawl which she swore she had heard before. He couldn't be a new member of the staff, because her father would not speak to someone of that station, regardless of the circumstances. And if someone attempted to blackmail him, he would have their head by morning.

Not to mention, the two were talking like equals. Equals ready to tear one another apart, but still she sensed respect in their voices.

The loung was just down the hall from her bedroom, giving her ample opportunity to eavesdrop. Moving to the door, she peeked out and found that her father had just exited the lounge. It was a grand in size, just like every other room in the mansion, with the left wall a window overlooking the forest. She could just spot her father's guest at the opposing end of the room, sitting next to the hearth.

She quickly tugged on her aqua bathrobe and tiptoed towards the guest. The starkest detail about him was his hair. It was in a buzz cut style but was as white as snow. It practically melted into his pasty skin.

He looked younger than her, dressed in a baby blue jacket, with little metal studs on the shoulders as though he was a high-class biker. A black sweater vest lay beneath his jacket, and a ruby pendant rested just below his neck. His legs had been folded one over the other, with his leather loafers resting on the coffee table in front of his maroon sofa. On his left hand, he rubbed a turquoise ring, while in his left he clutched a cigar.

Had he gone to her school, he would have been referred to as "Pudgy" by the girls who Pacifica ate lunch alongside. She could see that quite a bit of his girth was muscle, though, from the ripples in his jacket.

He was staring at the fire so intently, that only when she recognized him and let out a little gasp, he turned his attention her way. A crocodile's smile spread across his face, revealing a golden tooth.

"Why hello dear, ma name is-"

"Your Gideon Gleeful."

He frowned, and then stood, snuffing out his cigar in the crystal ashtray which stood in the center of the mahogany end lounge table. The firelight made him look twice as threatening, and Pacifica took a couple steps back, remembering her Judo training.

"Ya know, in ma day, women didn't interrupt men. They had _manners._ "

He might be considered "short", compared to most boys his age. But Pacifica had always been strangely short (a favorite criticism of her mother's since she couldn't change it), and so he hulked over her.

She looked him up and down. "What was your day? 2001?"

He growled, and her hands tensed in preparation to defend herself against a slap. But then the teen took a deep breath and reopened his eyes. She realized as he did, and the grin returned to his face, that his irises were teal colored.

"I'm sorry; I don't even know _your_ name. Please, introduce yourself."

She got the feeling that he was planning to throw her out the nearest window if she didn't comply. "Pacifica Norwood."

He giggled. "Ah, yes. Your mother said something about a little girl in the house, I suppose she was referring to you." She remained impassive, struggling not to show her desire to punch him. "Now you're the little bird whose been hanging out with my sweetheart. How is she?"

Pacifica blinked. "I don't-"

" _Mabel_. Mabel Pines. The girl who you've been sharpinin' your claws on. How. Is. _She_?"

Startled by the force behind his words, Pacifica took another step back. "She's…fine. Why do you care?"

He laughed. "How could someone not care? She's the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the world. The most genuine too. Nowadays, most girls are infected with that feminism garbage. They have no appreciation for the higher things either. They waste their lives texting and watching *shudder*…videos. Mabel is an artist; she can paint, she can sculpt, oh, and the way she can perform, the way that girl can _dance_ …" He closed his eyes and gave a hungry growl, the same kind which the No-Nosed Woman used to give. When he re-opened his eyes, they were glowing brightly. "…she is the most alluring creature on the planet."

Pacifica sniggered. "Sure thing, but she kicked your stalker ass."

The glow in his eyes faded, and he turned his attention to her. "Her mind's been corrupted by her love for her brother, and by that bastard Stan Pines." He chuckled and turned his gaze back to the fire. "But they won't be an issue much longer."

Before Pacifica could ask what _that_ meant, her father had returned, with time with a couple glasses of martini. Normally, guests would be served by Alphonse. The fact her father would stoop to do this himself demonstrated that he cared massively about the deal he was about to strike.

She knew better than to stick around.

When she returned to her room, she removed her phone and dialed Brianna. "Look up everything you can about Gideon Gleeful, I want everything you can find by 11 AM. Understand? Good." She glanced out the door.

Things were not going well for her father by the look of it.

"Oh, and Bri? Buy that cat costume we saw yesterday. No, not for _you_. For our oh-so-admired new friend. She's going to be the life of the party tonight."

 **[0** **]**

Gideon returned to his camp in his limo, a displeased look on his face. As the sun rose, he could feel his body changing. His muscles were growing, his hormones were multiplying. His hair curled down to his shoulders, and his nails turned into that of a corpse. Dirty and ungainly.

He ran his tongue across his teeth and felt more coming loose. His body was aging, but it was also dying. A result of being tied to a demon so long. Without his age at status, he was contracting all kinds of diseases and disorders. Already his vision had begun to decrease in quality, and his hands had contracted arthritis. The medication for his new aches and pains was costing a fortune too.

But that didn't matter. Once he got a hold of The Machine, he would be able to pay back his debts to the demons, and they would restore his immortality. Not only that, but she would be his. After so long, she would be his.

Mabel too, but he was mostly concerned with her. The Machine was the ticket to everything, and why Stan Pines had not utilized its power in so long, was beyond him. Many claimed that its existence was a falsehood, but he knew better. The pendant he had given Mabel, the one he now wore around his neck, had given his a clear view of the entire shack, top to basement.

He had seen it, he had seen that myth with his own two eyes. How ironic, Dipper's fate was, to spend every day searching for the answer to all the secrets. And yet to go to sleep every night, only forty feet above that answer. Above the power of gods.

Well, Dipper never would get that chance. He would never get the chance to fix Preston's little "problem" either. Gideon wished that he had been able to come to a compromise with the Norwoods, they would have made powerful allies.

But he could not wait around for their long-winded plan to come into effect. Every day the aging process was increasing in speed. By the end of the month, he would be a doddering old man, restricted to a bed. And after that? Well, no force on earth would be able to save him.

There would be no escape from the nightmare dimension, for he knew that would be his resting place. They owned his soul, let's face it, they owned him. They owned him like his relatives had owned slaves. Except there would be no great liberation for him, there would be no war which would change the order of things.

Humans had been servants of the Mighty Powers since their origin, and Gideon just happened to be a particularly sharp-witted servant. Nothing was going to change that. But Gideon planned on delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. If it took Mabel becoming an only child, then he would do it.

It had not been part of the original plan to ever kill the brother, but Mabel had ruined the original plan. He needed blood, blood like his sister's blood to complete the second pack and return him to his former glory.

Gideon didn't care what it took, he would get that blood, and with it, The Machine would be his. Then his sweetheart would fall with it too. He would be the god of this world, and her his eternal queen. He could wait centuries for her to change her mind and accept him.

He would have all the time in the world, quite literally.

The limo came to a stop and he climbed out, eager to shave the bristle which had appeared on his acne ridden cheeks and to clip his new claws. Miss Grey was waiting beside his trailer door, clipboard in hand.

When he was king, she would probably be the first he sacrificed. At least he could stand Bergmann. She was a wiry fool who would have tried to kill him years ago if she wasn't so desperate for power in her own worthless life. At least Bergmann knew his place.

"What did Mr. Norwood say?"

Gideon shrugged, stepping inside as she opened the door for him. He moved to the mirror and grabbed the nail clipper. "He wanted I should hold off ma plan 'til he could convince Sherlock to _assist_ him in a mystical anomaly of his."

"Are we going to?"

He snapped off a long stretch of keratin. "Of course not. His support will mean nothing when ah have The Machine. He'll be kissin' ma feet. We go ahead with the plan."  
Miss Grey fretted, pacing back and forth and mumbling to herself.

Gideon turned her way, twisting off another long nail. "Do you not believe that I can pull this off? Is that it?"

"N-No, I just-!"

He turned away, disgusted. "I'm disappointed in you Amelia. Without me you are nothing, so you better start supporting ma decisions, because else wise, I can replace you easily."

He snapped off the last nails as she considered this, and didn't look away from his stubble. "Get me a barber and a tailor. I want to look my very best for my Maybelle tanight." He tugged at his black tie, admiring the electric blue lines which ran diagonally across it.

"Of course Sir."

He held up a finger, "Oh by the way,"

She stopped at the doorway, almost out of earshot, causing him to sniff humorously. A pained expression crossing her face as she turned his way. He had been unnerving as a child. As a teen, he was downright terrifying.

Gideon was beginning to love this mirror. It allowed him to admire himself while speaking to someone without looking them in the eye while still being able to see their expressions. It was perfect for someone like him, who fed on attention.

" _Yes_ , sir?" She asked, desperate to go about her business.

"You should get a costume too," He turned her way, eyeing the pencil skirt which fit her name in terms of coloration. "I would hate to disappoint mah Maybelle."

Nodding, she rushed out before he could say anything else. Gideon sensed that Bergmann was standing right outside, but made him wait a few moments.

"Come on in, Dave." He invited as he removed his jacket and sweater vest, turning towards his wardrobe.

Built like a thumb, Bergmann moved inside, now finally shorter than his boss. When he spotted that Gideon was undressing, he turned away. "Uh…boss? Should I come back late-?"

His question was interrupted. "No. Give me a status report."

"Well, she's been actin' up all morning." The man's brisk Brooklyn accent made to enunciate his own nervousness. "Banging against the cage bars…boss, are you sure that you can control this thing?"

Gideon turned the former lion tamer's way as he worked on some faded jeans. "Of course, I can. And it's not a 'she', it is an ' _it'_."  
"Yeah, it just feels less creepy if I-"

"Well, DON'T. I'm sick of people pretending something is one thing when it clearly is not." He slid on a white tee and threw a button up. Turning, he looked Bergmann up and down. The man was soaked in sweat, despite the earliness of the hour and the coolness of the air.

"Relax ma friend. I have everythin' under cantrol." He grabbed his trusty tome of secrets and flipped through it as he gave instructions. "I want you to feed oua pet before the sun goes down tonight…but just one morsel. It needs to have its appetite wetted for the big feast ahead."

"Wait, where am I gonna-?"

Gideon's eyes flashed with light, and Bergmann backed away. The door slammed closed behind him as Gideon's voice grew louder and more piercing. _"Ah don't care how you geet it some food, just thatchya do. There are tons of homeless people in this town, grab one of them. Tons of dumb as bricks hikers too in this area. Just find someone and shove 'em in the cage, understan'?"_

Bergmann let out a muted "Yes", and the lights stopped flickering. The door unlocked itself and swung open, Gideon turning away.

"Good. Now get out of ma trailer."

 **[0** **]**

Dipper sat on the back porch, his eyes locked onto the stump on which he had chopped wood on a couple days ago. Beside him lay a book, something about a newcomer to a small town with big secrets, he had not picked it up in so long that he did not remember the plot. In his hands was a mug filled with tea, he brought it to his lips and enjoyed the feeling of the warm liquid coursing down the back of his throat. The night had been heavy with humidity, even forcing him to kick off his blankets in his sleep.

But when he awoke an hour ago from that re-accruing nightmare which evaded memory or comprehension, he discovered that the world had grown chilly. The month of June had been filled with rain, but as it reached its close, a distinct dryness had come over the valley. As such, the downpour had become fog along the tops of the mountains, and that fog had rolled down across the forest.

It was thick as soup, the trees becoming the dark guardians, and the forest itself becoming turning into an entire seperate world. Dipper's bloodshot eyes remained locked on that spot, the spot where he swore he had seen some creature when he had first stepped out onto the porch.

Still, nothing came. Nothing peaked out from behind the tree stump, and no movement could be seen in the sea of thick fog. The world had been consumed by this weathered smoke, and Dipper was alone in the fact that he was awake.

He looked up, unable to stay awake any longer while staring at the same thing. Nothing leaped out when he did this, and a tension left his muscles. His mind formed abstract constellations in the stars which clung to the horizon, their light almost snuffed away by the rising sun.

"Is Mabel home?"

Dipper twitched towards the voice and recognized the girl which Mabel had been hanging out with. Her blonde hair fell to the shoulders of her teal tee shirt and her hands remained at the hips of her jean skirt. She had moved into the backyard with almost suspicious subtly, catching him off guard, and Dipper took a deep breath as he tried to remember her name.

"P…Pamela, right?"

She gave a little smile. "Pacifica. Mabel calls me Paz."

Dipper nodded and turned his attention back to the stars. "She's sleeping."

She glared at him, as though this situation was his fault. "Could you…wake her up? I want to talk to her."  
Dipper considered this, before taking a long sip of the tea. "You can head in yourself although our room is probably a mess compared to what you are used to."

She sighed, and looked him up and down. "What are you doing?"

He took another long sip. "Just sitting here…enjoying the view."

She frowned as she passed him, moving into the kitchen and letting out a groan of disgust as she saw the state of the room. Dipper turned, watching as she moved past the piles and up the stair case.

He turned back to the stump and discovered that the ax had returned to its place, embedded in the crisp pine wood. The air dropped twenty degrees, and Dipper stood up, grabbing his book and cupping the mug of tea with his right hand as he followed Pacifica inside.

She had just returned from upstairs, a bit of a blush on her cheek. Dipper dumped the book on the table, right next to the carved salt and pepper shakers and the thatch fruit basket. He looked up at her as he turned on the stove and moved the kettle into place, an eyebrow raised.

"She needs to get dressed first?" He guessed, intrigued by her blush.

The normally haughty girl nodded while avoiding eye contact, and sat down at the table, staring out the kitchen window, and trying to keep from touching anything.

The kitchen table had become a dumping ground for all manner of things. Mabel's math homework (yet to be finished), jutted out from beneath the fruit basket, with Stan's half-completed Crossword lying on top of that. A knocked over mug lay on the crossword, still containing coffee, but not nearly enough to ever pour out of the cup.

Beside that stood a 50-cent pez-dispenser with a little plastic pig head, one whose contents were scattered across the left side of the table. A container of sanitizer, about the side of the average person's head, stood there, rubbing up against an empty wine bottle. The cork remained close by, its wood brushing a discarded magazine displaying the newest scientific discoveries. The magazine was flagged by a box of Pentagram-O's, which still contained the barest wheat cereal smothered in liquid sugar. Of course, an empty milk jug had been parked just next to the box.

Dipper grabbed the waste bin which was pinned between the washing machine and the freezer. Most of their meals were opened from cans, so the refrigerator had a thin layer of dust across its front.

As he bent and began scooping and tossing, he spoke, too tired to be polite. "Sorry about the mess, Stan doesn't make us keep the place clean, and as I can assume you saw from our room," He glanced up and found that she was eyeing The Journal, the book lying on the edge of the kitchen counter. He moved to that direction as he continued. "…Mabel and I aren't very good at keeping stuff orderly. I'm lazy and she's easily distracted."

She forced a laugh, her eyes still searching for a view of The Journal. Dipper frowned and turned away. He slid the faded red book under his arm and removed the trash bag. He watched her as he exited the room and dropped the bag in the dumpster directly off of the back porch.

When he returned inside, Mabel was sitting beside her new friend, talking a mile a minute. In excitement, she tried to touch Pacifica's shoulder, and Dipper saw the flinch which crossed the blonde's face. His twin only realized something was wrong when Pacifica leaned away from her grasp.

Dipper kept his eyes on the kitchen sink, and the dishes which he was cleaning as Mabel asked what was wrong.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Pacifica responded.

Dipper had heard that tone before, always surrounding a lie. His mother had frequently used it whenever she didn't like his father's behavior. He couldn't remember how many times he had snuck downstairs to get a glass of water, and heard his parents going at one another.

It always started with those words. "I'm fine", a very mockery of the concept.

"But-"

"No. I just don't like…touching…can we please talk about something else."

Mabel conceded with a sigh, and Pacifica began telling her about the party which she was hosting tonight at her parents' beach house.  
"I want you to come along." Pacifica looked up and stared at the back of Dipper's neck. "And I'd like you to bring a friend."

Mabel's earlier concern had disappeared. "Really?"

Neither of them had ever been invited to a party before, especially after Mabel's "incident."

"Of course. I want all my friends there…" Pacifica asked, a slyness sneaking into her voice.

Mabel squealed. "Great! I have the perfect dress-"

"Actually," Pacifica interrupted. "It's a costume party…you know, for Summerween."

"Summer who now?"

Dipper smirked, and turned his sister's way. "It's a holiday. It used to be a farming festival, but after a while, kids started to dress up like they do for Halloween…thus the name…Summerween."

Pacifica rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it used to be to celebrate the new season or whatever. Now people just use it as an excuse to get drunk and dress slutty. But you still have to dress up if you want to fit in."

She glanced around. "Can you afford a good one or do you want me to buy me one for you?"

Dipper scowled at her, hating the way his sister squirmed in her seat at the acknowledgment that they were nowhere near as well off as Pacifica and her family. He also detected excitement at the prospect of buying something _for_ Mabel. This girl wanted to dress his sister up like a doll.

"We can afford one." He said, drawing the blonde's venomous attention and surprising his twin.

Pacifica crossed her arms and stood. "Good, well, just remember that your plus-one has to be in costume too."

Mabel nodded, still a little taken aback by the spite which her brother and her friend were exuding towards one another. "When's the party?"

"Eight O'clock sharp. I assume you know where it's located and you have transportation?"

"Uh huh."

"Good, then I won't have to send a limo."

And with that, she was out the door.

 **[0** **]**

Wendy tugged on his dirty jeans, her eyes focused on the nearest corner of the van. Robbie stared at the sweat which rolled down the exposed parts of her back, a displeased look on his face.

"Why are you so obsessed with this job?"

She sighed. "I'm not obsessed, it's called _having a job._ It requires conviction of some kind."

He grunted and turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling of the van. "Don't think I don't know that you and the old man have an arrangement."

She glanced his way as she pulled on her socks. "I don't blow him if that's what you mean."

Again, he gave a sound which made her desire to kick him increase. _Use words, you moron._

"Right. Sure. Why would he hire you then? Huh? You're not even good at counting the cash."

She leaned over him to grab her button up and slipped it on. "Thanks a lot, honey. God, when did you get so bitchy?"  
She stood up, slipping into the front seat and retrieving her hat. He sat up and spoke in his trademark deadpan as she dusted off the pizza crumbs. "I don't care that your keeping secrets…I just don't like that they are coming between us spending time together."

Wendy inserted the gas key. "Well, if you worked a job-" He rolled over at the concept. "-then I wouldn't be the one paying for everything and we could afford our own apartment."

He spoke into the cum-stained pillow which occupied the back of the van. "Right. We'll get an apartment so that we can sit around watching TV and hating each other."

Wendy rolled her eyes and hit the brakes, causing the van to jolt into movement, sliding her boyfriend against the back doors. "So you want to spend more time with me, but you don't want to be _around_ me?"

Robbie stood up, pulling his jeans over his black and crimson boxers. He climbed into the passenger seat, his girlfriend driving up the dirt path and onto the highway. He looked her up and down, as his fingers fumbled with the button and zipper.

"I just…I like this." He said, averting his eyes.  
She kept her eyes on the road as he elaborated. "I like this freedom. I like not being tied to some crummy flat, not owning a TV, or a computer. Eating whatever we want whenever we want. Wen, you…" He looked out the window, his nipples growing hard in the chilly air which had begun to flush the car.

"…you're all I think about. You're the reason I am who I am today." He leaned over, kissing her beneath her ear. She rolled her eyes at the display of affection but did not try to brush him away as he ran his lips up to her hair and inhaled her scent. "I don't think this job is making you happy…and I'd be fine with sticking around this town if you just told me why we are."  
Wendy took his hand parked the van. She turned his way and took a deep breath. "Please, just…wait a week. Okay? I'll explain everything then. Once I've done what I need to do, we'll be able to leave this town and drive…wherever you want. Canada, Mexico, wherever the fuck you wanna go, we'll do it and we will never…look…back."

She brought his face to hers and pulled him into a deep kiss. After just a few seconds, however, he broke the kiss. Her look of disappointment did not dissuade him.

He pulled his hand out of hers and to the door handle. "Fine."

Robbie grabbed his tee shirt and hoodie as he dropped out of the car, watching as she blew him a kiss and slammed the van door close. He watched her veer off down the road and then he headed into the forest, wondering why he had to fall in love with mysterious, weird girl.

Wendy was what he had always wanted, though. All the girls in this town were either trying to act like they were part of the outside world or desperate for a plane ticket to Hollywood. But not her. She rejected everything which had always frustrated and oppressed him, hell, she fought back like hell.

She had been his knight in shining armor. He had first seen her after returning from church one Sunday morning. She had been crouched in front of her mother's grave, and when he approached, instead of asking if she was alright, he asked how long the person she loved had been dead.

"Four years," She said. That day had been the anniversary.

He told her about his younger sister, the one who had died when he was eight. She offered him a joint, and he took it with only the slightest hesitation. After that, they had begun to meet regularly in the cemetery and his clothes and demeanor, had changed the more and more that she showed him the freedom and chaos which life could bring.

Since that day so long ago, since first seeing her face, Robbie knew that she would one day be his. That the two of them were meant to be.

If it meant having to wait a little longer, to get the freedom he craved with the only person in the world he cared about, then he would do it. Robbie wasn't impatient, just painfully aware of his mortality. That kind of worldview sort of came with the family business of embalming corpses, and especially arose when you constantly hung out with a girl who embraced "Carpe Diem" the way that his parents embraced monotony.

As he stepped onto one of the paths which he had used to escape his boring house life and explore the endless forest, Robbie received a dull slam against the back of his head. His knees buckled, and the teen fell to his knees, quivering in pain as blood ran down the back of his neck. Vision blurring, he only got a glance at his attacker (a massive man, armed with a crowbar), before he received another blow, this time, a fist across the front of his face.

Blood spurted from his nose as he collapsed onto the dirt path and fell into unconsciousness.

 **[0** **]**

Wendy opened the door, noticing the lack of customers as a result of the Harvest Festival as the bell rang. Despite the earliness of the hour, there was usually someone poking about the front of the store.

McGucket was fixing a pipe, a screwdriver in his mouth as with gloved hands he tightened a nut. He looked up at her approach, and then looked away, fear replacing his constant confusion for a brief instance.

He remembered. He remembered their discussion a couple days ago, in which he had challenged her ability to do her part and carry through with The Plan. As she moved into the kitchen, she found that the Pines twins were huddled over the table, Mabel sewing like a madwoman, while her brother cut felt and cardboard. Their great uncle stood at the sink, watching their movements and sipping his coffee.

When she entered, she got a mix of reactions. Dipper looked up and gave her a thumbs up, before returning to work. Mabel didn't even acknowledge her entrance, and Stan gave her "the look." The one which signaled that they should exit the room, and discuss The Plan.

McGucket must have spilled the beans about their little dispute. That or Stan inferred the situation from her recent behavior. Despite his stony demeanor, the old man could read people like a book. It was probably what made him so good at gambling and scamming.

She nodded while still holding his gaze, and Stan slipped out onto the back porch as she said good morning to her two wards. She ruffled Dipper's hair and regretted it almost immediately. The look on his face reminded her of the dog which Tambry used to have. Her best friend had never given the dog any attention, and the Labrador had gone a bit mad from the lack of appreciation. Wendy had always felt sorry for the beast when, as a small child, she had been invited to watch movies with Tambry.

She had felt even sorrier when the dog, unfed for two days, had bitten Tambry's mom and had been put down shortly after.

The memory, applied to Dipper, made her wince the moment that he turned that horribly pitiful smile away. But she was quite sure that Mabel caught the pained look. She was too much like her uncle for her own good.

Wendy found the fresh air to be extremely relaxing, despite the fact that she had been outside only a couple of minutes ago. She turned her emerald eyes onto Stan, who was focusing on the end of his cigarette.

He looked up, stamping out the match on the porch. Much like he had done with so many people.

Even as a child, visiting the store to peruse the gift collection, she had known there was something strange about him. Now that she was fully aware of the things he had done, and the things he did on a daily basis, she always became alerted when in his presence.

Her father had always struck fear into her and her brothers, not bothering ever to "spare the rod." The discipline sessions had increased after her mother's passing, leaving Wendy to frequently sneak out her bedroom window whenever she heard her father begin to roar at the discovery of some mess upon arriving home after a long day at work.

She swore that he shook the very foundation when he screamed, his lungs proving to be just as strong as those tree trunk arms of his.

But Stan was on an entirely different level. When caught in an argument with her father, she might be infected by images of him breaking her arm just to release his frustration, or even embedding his ax in her shoulder after his screams had turned to animalistic grunts. If she was ever caught at ends with Stan Pines, then she would stoop to any level to repair the situation. He had the key to her freedom, to her happiness in his pocket.

And as well, if he wanted her or one of her brothers to disappear, then they would within days of him dropping the clue. No clues. No motives. Just gone.

Stan Pines got what he wanted, one way or another, he always made sure of that.

"What did you want from me, boss?"

Stan fixed her with his gaze, able to detect how unnerving she found him. He gave that easy smile which he always did in her presence, his sour mood lifted. "Tonight, Mabel is going to a party. I want you to chauffeur her."

She tried not to exhale too hard. He didn't want to discuss how close she was becoming with the twins. A good thing too, as if he had instructed, she probably would have sworn off speaking to them. McGucket was an old friend of Stan's, but he was integral to The Plan.

Wendy was not. There were plenty of people who could protect the twins and monitor their movements. She just happened to be the most convenient option.

"Sure thing boss. When do you want her home?"

Stan tossed his half-finished cigarette into the open dumpster. "Midnight seems about fine. Just make sure that if she gets drunk, she throws up before you return her inside my house."  
Wendy nodded and reached for the door knob.

"One more thing,"

She gripped the knob as she turned her gaze his way. His grin had disappeared. "Stuff tends to get weird this night of the year. If you see anything suspicious…you'll call me, right?"

"Uh-Huh."

Before Stan could continue, the door had flung open and Mabel burst out. Without giving Wendy a second look, she addressed her uncle with barely contained excitement. "Grunkle Stan? Can I keep this sewing machine?"

A short, sweet smile crossed his wrinkled lips. "Sure thing sweetheart."  
She danced forward, hugging him around the neck and crying out "YOU ARE THE BEST GREAT UNCLE, EVER!" as she ran back inside.

Stan watched her go and then fixed his eyes on Wendy. The smile had again, disappeared within seconds. Another parlor trick, just another sleight of hand ladies and gentlemen. Stan Pines can't smile.

He's seen too much. He's been alive too long.

Wendy managed to find her voice. "You think that Gleeful is gonna try something tonight."

Stan looked away, his eyes focused on the fading fog. "Positive. My sources tell me that he and the Norwoods didn't reach an agreement, and that means that he'll be desperate. Just stick by her no matter what, alright?"

Wendy gave muttered "Can do, can do," as she re-entered the shack.

When she did, she found that Mabel had fled the room. Dipper was pouring over his journal, eyes scanning the dark red ink on page 33. He looked up at her entrance and raised an eyebrow.

"What did he want? Is he planning some kind of stunt for Summerween?"

Wendy shook her head, moving to the fridge and removing some cold cereal and 2% milk. "Nope. He wants me to chauffeur Mabel at the party tonight."

"Aw, Man. Sorry about that. You know that she doesn't need one, right?"  
Wendy gave a noise of affirmation as she poured milk into the bowl and scooped up the Cheerios into her mouth. She swallowed and turned her attention to the fabric which covered the table.

"What are you guys making, anyway?"

Dipper was about to answer her question when his sister bounded down the staircase. "Hey, Dipper! I got my purse, can we head into town now?"  
He gave Wendy a small smile. "You'll see later."  
Mabel entered the kitchen, immediately skipping over to the screen door. Then he turned towards Mabel, who was now wearing a new sweater. It was pumpkin orange, with black spots to form the face of a jack-o-lantern. Make-up had been generously applied to her cheeks and beneath her eyes, but it didn't manage to detract from her crowd-winning beam.

"I'm ready if you are," Dipper said as he joined her at the back door.

Wendy stood up, wiping milk from her chin. "Wait, guys…I can drive you into town with my Van."

They exchanged glances, Mabel, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of traveling anywhere with Wendy following the Dusk 'Til Dawn incident. Dipper, however, looked ecstatic at the prospect. The twins fell into one of their frequent mental discussions, with Wendy unable to do anything but stand and wait as they debated the subject merely through giving one another a serious of distinct looks.

Finally, Mabel let out a sigh, and they turned her way. That awful smile of Dipper's returned to his face and he slid his hands into the pockets of his jean shorts as he spoke for them both.

"We'd love that."

 **[0** **]**

Pacifica walked through the abandoned amusement park, her eyes scanning the walls and surfaces. She had hired an entire team to redecorate for the holiday and to take all the liabilities to the landfill. Right now they were fast at work, running about the center of the fairground. Two men had scaled the big wheel, and were draping fake cobwebs between its rusty beams.

She sat down on the carousel, a worker repainting the rotting horses to be black, blood red, and a luminescent green. As she did, Brianna ran up to her, at a loss for breath.

"*PANT* P-Paz? *PANT* I-I've got the costume you wanted for Mabel."  
The blonde turned and stared at the sexy cat costume. Glowering, she tore the costume from Brianna's grasp and tossed it on the grass.

"She's making her own costume," Pacifica admitted bitterly. _Why did she care so much about controlling this one girl? Why did everything have to be perfect? She already had Mabel licking from her hand, the girl was just like any of the other people who had been useful to her mother and father._

Brianna picked up the costume, and the brushed the dirt from it. She knew by now that if Pacifica did something in a fit of rage which messed up later opportunities, it would not be good. "Oh ah, o-okay…"  
Pacifica turned her way. "You invited Troy right?"

Brianna shook her head. "M-Mavis was in charge of the invitations…"  
Pacifica groaned and turned inside. "MAVIS! GET OVER HERE!"  
There was a call from the bathroom stalls. "In a moment Paz!"

The blonde rolled her eyes and moved to the entrance of the stalls. "WE ALL KNOW THAT YOU'RE JUST IN THERE TO FORCE YOURSELF TO VOMIT, SO STOP WASTING MY TIME AND GET OUT HERE YOU BULIMIC SLUT!"  
The worker's ceased their decoration to cast a look Pacifica's way, but she glared at them until they returned to work. The rich girl turned her attention to the bathroom stalls and tapped her shoe impatiently. Within moments, Mavis out a distressed look on her face.

She looked almost hurt. "You didn't have to embarrass me like tha-"

"Yeah, whatever. Did you invite Troy?"

Mavis took a moment to search the vast caverns of her mind for the information. "Uh yeah. Why?"

Pacifica smiled. "Because we're about to give Miss Sunshine her summer romance."

 _And then she'll need me again._ Pacifica told herself that she only wanted Mabel to _need_ her because if Mabel was dependent on her than Dipper would be too. And her parents had big plans for him.

In fact, she didn't allow any other explanation to enter her mind.

 **[0** **]**

Tobias gave Susan a smile as she passed, raising his coffee. "These are some nice decorations you put up Su."

She stifled a laugh, glancing at the fake cobwebs and plastic spiders. "Thanks, Toby, but I just got them from the five and dime."

He shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. "Well, I appreciate the effort."

One of the lumberjack's at the bar sniffed. "This day used to mean something. God, money corrupts everything."

Tobias scowled. "What do you mean?"

The man turned his way, running a hand across his scraggly gray beard. "Used to be that this day was to appreciate the woods and all she gave us. Used to be that the Norwood's had to pay for the things they've done. Now it's just… _commercialized bullshit_."  
Susan gave the lumberjack a wary look, before turning back to her kitchen. Tobias stood up, notebook in hand, and tread over to the older man. "What do you mean?"

The man shoved Tobias out of the way, dropping some cash on the counter and muttering about how shitty the world had become. He stumbled out the door, no doubt having consumed a few beers before heading over here.

Tobias frowned, wondering what could have aggravated him so. The former reporter quickly finished his coffee and headed out into the street. There he stopped to watch as vendors set up along the street.

He stopped by Sheriff Durland, who was instructing some poor sap that he could not have a donkey in a public area without some kind of a permit.

"Hello, Sheriff!"  
Dorland glanced his way and sighed as he handed the vendor owner a ticket. "Hey, Toby. What _suspicious_ activities are you planning on reporting tonight? Kids dressing up and knocking on doors?"

Tobias glared back when the vendor snickered at his expense. "I just wanted to make sure that you were going to be making sure kids get home before 9."  
Dorland rolled his eyes. "Mayor Bantam decided that the curfew was a silly and _outdated_ concept, Tobias."

The vendor looked Tobias's way as he drew his donkey towards his van. "Don't tell me that you're afraid of _The Trickster_ Toby. It's like being scared of the big bad wolf."

The reporter turned his scowl on the farmer, and it was Dorland's turn to laugh. "Shut up Spratt, maybe you should focus on making sure that your wife there doesn't defecate on the road." He hadn't used the nickname since a child in middle school.  
He turned away before he could receive a punch for the wife comment. "You know Richard…there are reasons _why_ people have traditions."

Dorland shook his head and turned away. "Yeah, Tobias, and there are a lot of reasons to forget tradition."

Tobias was about to respond when he spotted his only associate entering the five and dime. Dipper Pines.

Better tell him about the curfew, He reasoned, and sprinted across the street and towards the department store.

 **[0** **]**

Dipper had discovered that travel into town was more awkward than expected. First of all, he had to share the passenger seat with Mabel, so she ended up sitting on his lap. This would have been fine if the trip had been as quick as expected.

But people had begun to storm the streets of the town, purchasing dream catchers and whatever else crap was holiday appropriate. Wendy started using the horn very liberally as people loped across the street. Mabel just giggled and talked about how great it was they were doing this.

They hadn't made their own costumes for the actual Halloween, or any other holiday in years, although Mabel had designed costumes for several school plays. She was naturally good at it, and Dipper was flattered that she wanted his help this time around.

Of course, any awkwardness caused to him was worth it if it meant that they created such a good costume that it left that bottle blonde speechless. He refused to let his sister get bossed around by anyone, let alone girls like her, the exact same type of girls who had been responsible for making Mabel feel like trash.

Mabel climbed out first from the van when they finally parked, Dipper dropping out right behind her. Wendy ushered them towards the department store, _cleverly_ named "Sasquatch's Rest Stop."

The inside of the building was just as expected, with a couple of bulbs hanging above the aisles and dimly illuminating the squalid environment. The head of a moose had been mounted above the cashier's desk, where a spry young man stood. A couple of speakers, far past they're prime, blasted out the local radio station, one which only played country and pop, with occasional interludes from the two hosts.

He could tell that Wendy couldn't stand the place as they passed the row of candy machines which flanked the automatic doors. Mabel decided that she could donate 75 cents to the machines in exchange for three gumballs, and before long she was bouncing down the aisles.

Dipper had just begun to catch up with her when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Dipper!"

He turned, and fixed his eyes on the approaching informant. "Yes, Tobias?"

The man smiled. "I see that you and your sister are getting into the holiday spirit."  
"Yeah, well…"

"Just make sure that your back inside before nine o'clock." He picked up a can of beans as he said this, peering at the mascot (an old aviator, petting his dog). "That was the rule back when I was a kid. Always be back before Nine o'clock."  
Dipper sighed. "And why is that Toby."

The man shrugged. "Not sure, it just always was that way. We used to have a rhyme about it…oh, how did it go?"

Dipper averted his eyes. "Well, thanks for the heads up Tobias, I'll be sure to-"

Mabel ran over, grinning in the way that only sugar could make her. "Who's this? Is this your new friend? You're finally making friend's Dipper! I'm so proud of you! Mom would be proud too. Hello, my name is Mabel Pines." She extended a hand towards the man, one which he shook with a smile.

"Tobias Towner, at your service."  
She giggled. "Your name is a-a-a-an alliteration!" Continuing to giggle like a woman who had recently lost her mind, she bounded off, calling for Wendy.

Tobias turned back towards Dipper. "Cute sister you've got there."  
"Watch it." The teen replied as soon as the words had left Tobias's mouth.

"Oh c'mon, dip. I'm not that kind of sexual offender." Tobias turned away, removing a joint. He paused and loomed back. "You'll make sure she's inside by nine, right?"

Dipper recognized the importance of this to his informant and gave an agonizing slow gesture of confirmation.

Relief flushed Tobias's face, and he wished Dipper good luck, before disappearing out the front door. Dipper watched him go and jumped when Wendy spoke just behind him, having snuck up without creating a sound.

"Who's that?"

Dipper fixed himself, feeling a little embarrassed for being taken off guard. "He helps me with research. He's how I figured out Gideon was a…nasty guy."

Wendy nodded, before raising the plastic bin in her right hand. "Well, we've got all the materials you guys wanted…"

Dipper smiled, Tobias's warning already fading from his mind. "Great. I'll pay for them, you find Mabel."

As they climbed back into the van, Wendy received a call, and after disturbing her passengers by yelling at whoever was on the other end, she cursed under her breath and asked if they would mind a side trip.

"It won't take long." She assured.

The twins conceded, and she drove down the road and onto a dirt path. After half an hour of winding through the maze of trees, she parked in front of a collapsing cabin.

Broken glass littered the lawn of the building, and a thatch rocking chair, with a gaping hole where the seat should be, leaned against the mold coated porch railing. Wendy skipped up the four steps, avoiding the hole in the middle one through reflex.

Dipper spotted the mailbox, and everything fell into place. "CORDUROY" was written on the side of the box.

As he wondered who in her family could have called her, Mabel suggested that he come to the party as well.

He sniffed. "Mabel, as much as I would love to hang out with your new friend, I really have a lot of work to do."

She groaned. "Dipper, you can't stay in the Shack all day. You need to go out, to make friends."

"I have friends." He replied, now looking at her.  
"I mean friends, YOUR AGE. Not creepy, old guys like the one you introduced me to." Mabel said with a dismissive gesture.

"You introduced yourself-"

"You need people who you can relate to Dipper."

"I do have friends my age." He insisted.

She shook her head. "Wendy doesn't count, she's your friend. You need people who you can just…hang out with…like a normal person…and I don't know, play your nerdy dungeon game with."

"It's not ner-"

"Dipper, I'm really worried that you are going to turn into a crazy recluse…much like that guy you introduced me to."

Dipper did not even consider

She was talking about leaving. Dipper could have been incorrect, but he believed that this was the first time that Mabel acknowledged that they wouldn't be together forever. He should have been proud of her, she was finally thinking like an adult.

But instead, he felt betrayed somehow (and a little nauseous).

"Mabel, I…I don't relate. To those guys you're going to go hang out with? I don't relate…with any of them."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon Dipper."

"No, I'm serious. They've never wanted someone like me to be their friend, and I've never wanted them to be mine. I don't… _like_ the same things as most teenagers."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't be social!" Mabel argued, and Dipper was more than a little taken aback by how much this meant to her.

"But…but what am I going to do Mabel? Huh? Tell them about my favorite rap? Ask them to hit me up on FaceChat?"

Mabel stared at him in silence for a long time and then spoke with a deep exhale. "Your perception of your own generation is not unlike that of Stan's."

"I'm serious Mabel! I don't… _get_ them. I don't! I don't have a network of friends online…I hate all popular music and I…read. I read A LOT Mabel. To me, those guys are idiots."  
"Now you're just being mean."  
"No, their vocabulary, have you ever noticed how limited it is. Everything is 'cool' or 'hot', and 'awesome.' From the perspective of someone who exposes themselves to a larger volume of words on a regular basis…they sound moronic. And I mean…I'm the only person back home, who actually uses their phone for communication purposes. I don't understand the jokes which they find funny…because I have never been in the joke. The world doesn't want me to fit in, and I'm fine with that, because fitting in means dumbing down, giving up freedom just so you feel a little less lonely."

Again she paused to stare at him. Then she turned away. "I don't have a wide vocabulary, do you think I'm stupid too?"

"What? NO! That's not-!"

The screen door flung open, smacking against the cabin wall, and Wendy stormed out, a teenage boy around fourteen following her out and yelling at her.

"GO AHEAD! RUN AWAY! THAT'S ALL YOU'RE EVER GOOD FOR, LYING AND RUNNING."

She turned around, and Dipper and Mabel gaped in horror as she tackled him to the porch floor and the two began wrestling back and forth. Wendy clearly had the upper hand, as she throwing punches left and right, however, the younger teen (presumably a relative) was able to yank at her hair and kick her into the porch railing.

Dipper and Mabel jumped out of the car and sprinted over to the porch as she began strangling him, slamming his head against the rotting wood floor.

"WENDY! WENDY STOP IT! _YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM_!" Dipper implored as he gripped her shoulder to pull her off of the boy. She elbowed him to end his attempts, and Dipper keeled over, crying out in pain.

"HEY!" Mabel picked up the hose which lay discarded on the lay and turned it on full blast.

The cold water sprayed the back of Wendy's neck and coursed down her shirt. Her grip loosened, her eyes widening. She stared down at her brother and looked at the bruises which covered his neck. He was unconscious, his chest struggling to rise and fall.

"I…I…"

Dipper stood up, rubbing his stomach and staring at the body. Not her. He refused to look at her.  
"C'mon," he said as he picked up the boys arms. "We need to get him to the hospital."

Wendy nodded, picking up his legs and feeling her body fall into auto-pilot as Mabel dialed 9-1-1.

"Yes, there was an accident! Some rope got tangled around my friend's neck and now he's bruised up pretty badly and having trouble breathing!"

Wendy cast a glance Mabel's way, but she too was avoiding eye contact. Up until this point, Wendy hadn't been sure that Mabel Pines _could_ lie. But right now she was doing it like a pro.

That, or she was actually hyperventilating.

Wendy and Dipper lay her brother down on the grass as Mabel rattled off the address. Dipper looked up, finally turning is gaze to her face. Then he reached out and brushed his hand across her lip. Wendy let out a cry of pain and looked down to find that blood was running down her chin.  
Her lip had been split open.

"Does your family have a first aid kit?" Dipper asked, staring at the bruises on her brother's neck.

"Y-Ye-"

"Go get it."

She rushed off to do that, not even noticing that her other two brothers had gathered at the doorway. The younger of the two, dressed as a skeleton for tonight's Trick-or-Treating, moved down the stairs as Dipper performed mouth to mouth resuscitation and pumped the strangled teen's stomach to get air inside of him.

The eight-year-old was about to peek over the strange large boy's shoulder and look at the body.

Then a hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned and found a girl in an orange sweater giving him a tender smile.

"What's your name, little buddy?" She asked as she turned him away from the scene.

"Edward. B-but everyone calls me Eddie."  
"Nice to meet you Eddie, my name's Mabel. What are you dressed as?" She sat down on one of the steps, and he found himself sitting on her knee without even thinking about it.

She was gentle and warm, and had he been old enough to remember his mother, he would have made the connection. As it was, she just seemed to fill some emotional crevice which he had not even been aware existed.

"I'm a skeleton. I-Is D-Danny gonna be okay?"

Mabel frowned. "Danny's your brother right?"

"Uh huh. He's been punished before…but never that hard."  
Mabel's eyes widened and then they fell into quiet sadness. "He's going to be fine Eddie, my little bro Dipper is on the case, okay?"

He nodded.

"Good, now go tell your big bro that your biggest bro is going to be alright."

Eddie nodded, and she pulled him into a hug, before letting him run off and do just that. He blushed a bit while in the embrace, but it felt nice after watching the sister he looked up to go insane on the brother that he relied on.

"Don't worry," He told Emmet when he got back inside. "There are nice people who are going to help."

 **[0** **]**

In its prison, The Trickster stirred.

It could smell its food source rising. Subtle, massive, expanding, contracting, distressing, confusing. Food had begun to ring out across the midday. It was fear, the taste, and smell of fear, mixing in the noon air.

And it was breeding, fast.

 **[0** **]**

The first thing which Robbie was certain of was that he was underground.

Earthen walls surrounded him, roots twisting through the soil to either side of him. There was a hole, from which he could just see daylight, but whatever means had been used to lower him down were now gone. A wide, unlit tunnel stretched out in front of him.

The second thing he knew, was that he was not alone.

There was a vast skittering in the darkness, the movement of something just large enough to be threatening. He found that, surprisingly enough, whoever had dumped him down here had not bothered to search his body for weapons.

He removed the Swiss army knife which was responsible for him spending half a year at juvenile hall. It hadn't been very difficult to steal it back from his dad, the knife itself was a gift from his grandfather, something which he and his sister had once used to carve their names into the oak which lay at the edge of the cemetery (a piece of flora they had always referred to as "the wishing tree").

"C'mon, out! You think that I'm afraid of you?"

The skittering increased and Robbie's grip on the knife tightened. "C'mon…I've got all day." _  
_Something moved. Something much larger than before. A creature the size of a train box car, its many legs slinking across the ground.

"Y-Yeah? Well,…you think that I'm afraid of you? Your nothing to me, you piece of shit. I've fought ghosts, my neighbor is a hag who sent crows after me, when I skipped church. Whatever you are…you're nothing. Do you HEAR ME? NOTHING. I'm not afraid of you."

The creature moved again, and Robbie saw the brief gleam of a thousand eyes opening and closing. Laughter. Little girl's laughter filled the tunnel, and Robbie felt his chest tighten.

 _"Liar, liar, pants on fire…"_ It said, in the voice of his little sister Cathy.

He knew it could not be her, and not because he had been there when they lowered her into the ground. Because although the voice had the humor behind it, it was hollow. There was no love, nor was their hate.

Just _hunger_.

 **[0** **]**

Wendy, Dipper, and Mabel stood outside the hospital room where Wendy's brother lay. Mabel paced back and forth, Dipper stared at the wall opposing him, and Wendy hung her head in her hands.

"Why did we stop by your house, to begin with?" Dipper asked, finally breaking the unnerving silence, populated only by the distant calls of nurses and the beeping of nearby machines.

Wendy raised her head to speak. "I promised my little brother that I would take him trick or treating and I just stopped by to ask if…if _he_ -" She gestured to the room. "-could take him part of the way, and then I could meet up with them later. But then he started ragging on me, I just…went berserk."

Mabel ceased her pacing. "Why didn't you just tell me? I would have been fine with not visiting the party if it meant you got to spend the night with your brother."

Wendy looked ready to say something ( _I can't disobey Stan, I can't_ ), but then just shook her head and returned to covering her face with her hands. She removed her phone and again dialed for her boyfriend.

The call was dropped after an excruciating amount of time spent waiting. _Where is he? I swear to god, the one time I need him to pick up his phone and he doesn't._

 **[0** **]**

Stan sat at his desk, phone to his ear as he nodded along to Mabel's explanation for why they had not returned yet.

"Alright, I'll come pick you up. You still in the mood for that party of yours?"

McGucket peaked inside and Stan turned his attention to the dart board which hung on his wall, beside a calendar from 1999.

"I didn't think so. I'm sorry you had to deal with this. Alright."  
He caught himself before he could say "love you, honey" and had to take a deep breath to stop himself from slamming the phone on the desk like it was a viper whose skull he was attempting to bash. His eyes lifted to McGucket, who stared at him blankly and then coughed out some words.

"Th-there's k-k-kids at the d-d-door…"

Stan stood up slowly and cracked his back. "What, already? Yeesh, time flies when you're having fun…"  
"T-t-time?"

"Just give them candy Fids, I need to go pick up the twins."

"Wh-why would we g-give them c-candy…if it's not Halloween."

"God, Fids, you've been celebrating this holiday since you moved here." Stan removed a revolver from the bottom left-hand drawer of his desk and slid it into his coat pocket. "Remember…you used to dress up Tate as Spiderman?"

"Sp-sp-spiders?"

"Ah, forget it. Just give them candy, alright?"

"B-b-but, if they dress up, then Th-Th-The Tr-Tr-Trickster w-w-will come…" By the time that McGucket had stuttered out the sentence, however, his boss had left out the back door.

 **[0** **]**

When Robbie was twelve, he and his sister had gone hiking. He thought it would be fun to show her all the trails which he had found in his many hours of exploration.

But a few days later, she had decided to take one of those trails on her own, unbeknownst to him. When he finally realized she wasn't in the house or yard, nearly an hour had passed. It took only seconds for him to figure out where she had gone, and the teen had rushed into the woods to find her.

The panic which seized him felt like a vice, growing tighter and tighter around his chest and causing his calls for her to become shrieks more reminiscent of his mother. She did not reply, and this sent him into a deeper level of anxiety. For every Sunday up until that Friday afternoon, Robbie had gone to church.

He had prayed, he had confessed, and he had believed. As the sun descended and the forest transformed into a dark world of possible agonies, that belief began to slip away with every prayer which went unfulfilled.

The faith was finally put down like a dog when he discovered her corpse. It had laid at the bottom of a ravine, and he had almost fallen in after her. The shock alone had resembled collision with a freight train while the wet orange lichen which had clung to the uneven rocks created a slippery trap for anyone moving too fast.

Or a little girl, trying to get a running start and leap the eight-foot pit.

Great roots had protruded from the earth, reaching out towards his sister. One of them was half broken. Robbie wondered how long she had clung to one of those roots, waiting for him to rescue her before it snapped under her weight and her skull bashed against the rocks which clustered the bottom of the pit.

It was such a stupid way to lose one's life. So avoidable, so infuriating.

He had waited for tears to leave his eyes before climbing down into the pit. As he approached the body, he noticed the little black cretins which roamed her once perfect features. Ants. Dozens of them, their antenna rubbing over her creamy flesh and their jaws constantly moving in a way which he found somehow more revolting than the damaged skull of his sister.

He bent to his knee to find him biting at the flesh exposed by that divot in bone.

How long must it have taken their hive mentality to discover her body? He wondered. Ten minutes, five minutes? Would she still have been alive, struggling with unconsciousness as they clambered up her cheeks and moved to her eyeballs in search of moistness?

They stung his hand over and over again as he attempted to cease their task of collecting food.

 _"She's ours now, Robbie."_ They said with the morbid click of their little mandibles. _"Put 'er in the ground and she'll belong to the worms. But right now she's OURS."_

The forest was near pitch black when he had climbed out of the pit, her body cradled against his own. Given her position, the scene would have looked touching, had it not been one in which blood oozed from the skull of his sister and stained the shoulder of his button up shirt.

He had been forced to carry the corpse of his little "explorer", of his mother's little "angel", back to the house, his chest aching as again the sky began to drizzle. The dread which hung over him weighed far more than the corpse. It felt like a noose, tightening over his throat with the moment that he considered life without her. He had assumed that he would never come in contact with comparable dismay.

Tambry had always told him not to assume things.

For at the moment, Robbie had pressed his body against the dirt of the tunnel, his eyes locked on the shifting monster in the darkness. The dread had returned tenfold.

"J-just stay back…" He commanded, slashing his knife through the air.

The creature snickered, and a horrible "CLICK-CLACK" rang out through the tunnel. It took a step closer and the sound echoed.

"I'm w-warning you…I'll hurt you, I'm not afraid to." Robbie could feel himself falling apart, this thing, this gruesome thing which he had no desire to ever see in its true form. It was toying with him, it was dragging this out.

A torture unlike any other.

Another step forward.

Yet another step forward.

The creature took another step and Robbie felt its hot breath crawl over his face.

Robbie's breath hitched as he spotted the blood-soaked shell of his opponent, and those thousand eyes turned upon him. He could the despair in his face (contorted in dimension to become its own monstrosity) reflected in those lightbulb-sized eyes.

CLICK-CLACK.

Robbie's throat felt acidy and his stomach turned. He wanted to wretch. He wanted to throw himself into a pit. For he would rather die than face this creature, cobbled together from nightmares.

The sunlight had drifted from a position to adequately illuminate the monster when it stepped into the light, its jaws clicking together inches from his face, but for this, he was thankful. He would rather not get a good look at the atrocity in front of him.

It was a giant ant, its shell made from rusty copper and its mandibles jagged metal spires which resembled the vice which had been closing around his throat for some time now. On six spindly metal poles, the monster supported its body, saliva dripping from its mouth and running down the front two legs.

That was out they ate their prey. They didn't have teeth, so they tore it up and drooled on each piece until it evaporated into its mouth. Its compound eyes were made up of hundreds of human eyes. And not just any human.

 _Cathy's_ eyes. They monitored his every movement, writhing against one another in a constant desynchronized shuffle. The skin which ran between their gruesome display was pink and red of an intestinal track.

Patches of moss joined the rust at the joints of each leg stalk, with joined by various fungi. Colonies of regular ants crawled across the surface of the monster, some traveling between his sister's eyeballs and some residing on the mandibles of the beast. A yellow sludge which must have been puss leaked from various joints.

CLICK-CLACK. Its jaws snapped together once, brutally enough to make Robbie fall to his knees. The knife fell from his hands, a useless invention in the face of this abomination.

For the first time in years, Robbie found himself praying.

The monster snapped its jaws down of the front of his jacket, tossing him against the wall, and then kicking him with one of its legs. He gagged on his own blood and let out a moan of pain as the monster snapped its jaws down on his left arm. The snapping of bones was a sound unlike any other and Robbie screamed loud enough to send birds flying as the monster snapped off his arm from the elbow join with one quick CLICK-CLACK.

He collapsed in agony, sobbing into the dirt as his stump of an arm bled profusely.

 **[0** **]**

Gideon lowered down a ladder.

It took moments for The Trickster to ascend, and his crew began running for their cars the moment they saw it. Gideon only blinked and swallowed once.

He held up a talisman he had acquired from an old man in town. "Now listen to me, beast. Tonight, you will find Dipper Pines, and you will kill him. Understand?"

The Trickster twisted into a sepia phantom of his sister. His breath caught as it mimicked her smile and began moving towards him. Except it didn't walk like anything he knew of. It twitched and jerked like scenes on a reel skipping, and it Gideon tripped over himself trying to stay out of its reach.

The white haired teen jumped to his feet when it teleported right in front of him, he lifted the totem. "E-Enough of this trickery…do you hear me?! I'm the one in control here. You can kill whoever you want, but first, you must destroy Dipper Pines. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

The ghost's grin twitched too large for a second, and it reaching out to touch his cheek. Her fingernails turned to claws at the last moment, and Gideon stumbled back in pain. Her eyes turned white as the graininess of her form increased, and her giggle albeit distorted with cruelty filled the air.

"O-Obey me!" He screamed as he jumped away from the creature.

The Trickster grinned and static ran across its body. Its skin peeled back and out stepped Mabel. She was dressed in the same pink sweater which she had been when he first met her, a flower knitted on the front of it.

It clutched his hand, gripping it tightly enough for him to squeak in pain and try to pull away.

Her eyes rolled back into her head and her teeth turned razor sharp as foam bubbled out of her mouth.

"E-e-e-ENOUGH!" He slapped the monster across the face and it let go of his hand, allowing him to inch away from it and raise the talisman. It didn't even flinch, as it could not feel pain. "Do as I command, and you will have a steady flow of meals for the rest of the year. But no more mind games. Show yourself to me as you truly are!"

The white-eyed Mabel let her snake tongue roll out between her teeth. Then the monster turned away, and once again its flesh bubbled and oozed as it located its next meal.

Gideon's eyes widened when the creature gave him a nod, and before he could say another word, it was no longer Mabel. It was a vast cloud of smoke, with various limbs reaching out for something to kill. Previous to this, only birds had run at the sound of Robbie's scream.

Now, as pheromones flooded the air, deer, bears, chipmunks, and all manner of insects fled their homes. The Trickster had hibernated for thirty years, and it was going to feast tonight.

 **[0** **]**

Like a wind which carried a great plague in it, the power of the monster so long kept slumbering beneath the earth, rolled through town. A mob of costumed trick-or-treaters ceased their chatter and shrieked when they saw the black cloud. This drew the attention of their parents, who in turn picked up their children and began screaming like extras in a Godzilla movie.

But what they saw? Just as much fright was caused. Sherriff Durland saw a soldier, decked out in camouflage and sporting a massive gas mask which made the wearer look part elephant. Blood ran down the soldier's chest, pooling around his midsection as he barked orders.

Of course, he shook himself, the moment that the thing was out of sight. He blamed the vision on a bit of mass hysteria, as everyone else appeared to be screaming out as well, claiming that they were being invaded by one thing or another. The panic grew so great, with people rushing to get to their cars, or to get their children home, that they turned into a writhing mass of declarations and shouts to move.

Sherriff raised his gun to the sky, firing out a blank and watching as the riot grew to a halt. "All right, all right! I want everyone to take a few deep breaths. I know that something very strange just occurred, and I encourage you to take all the precautions that you see fit. But I must suggest that you leave this location in an orderly fashion. Me and my team will take care of this."  
As he looked back down Main Street, he spotted the soldier continuing his endless march. He was headed towards the hospital, and no one clutching a gun in that fashion held good intentions.

But this was just mass hysteria. That's what he had been taught from an earlier age, by his father, the sheriff before him. This town was filled with a lot of mass hysteria, and if he, someone in a position of authority encouraged that hysteria, everything would collapse.

Besides, the Trickster never took more than a dozen souls.

 **[0** **]**

Wendy listened to the dial tone and snapped her cell phone closed angrily. Robbie was _still_ not answering her calls.

She stepped out of the bathroom stall, feeling her stomach tying itself into knots like the tails of so many rats shoved into little space. One glance at the wall-sized mirror assured her that she looked more like a corpse than a living, breathing human.

Her hands were shaking. She realized this as she reached for the knob, twisting it on. Warm water splashed forth, and she lathered her hands with the soap from the automatic dispenser. The warmth of the water felt good running down her hands and pooling in her palms.

The last time she could remember being at the hospital, was when Emmet had fallen off of his bike and twisted his arm. Danny had bought Emmet a new bike using the wages which had taken weeks to acquire.

She looked back up at her reflection and saw that she was crying again. Worse, she looked like her mother had that night at the hospital. Her skin pasty and shivered despite also sweating. Her hands unable to stop shaking and her red hair clinging to her forehead due to that sweat.

The restroom was strangely vacant, but even had it not been, Wendy would have broken down crying and started apologizing to no one. Of course, it was only to no one from the outside perspective. Inside, Wendy could feel the disappointment of her mother.

 _"Take care of your brother's for me…"_ That's what she had asked, and Wendy had just turned into the thing which posed them danger.

 _"Poor little baby…"_ This time, the voice rang out throughout the bathroom, echoing off the walls and chilling the redhead to the bone.

Wendy raised her head from the sink and her shaking ceased. There in the mirror, standing right behind her, was her mother. Or more accurately, the corpse of her mother. Its skin was gray and purple, turning black in a few places and pulled taut across skeletal features. Where its nose should have been, was a gaping hole. But it was definitely her mother's corpse.

Her right eye (the only one of the two not eaten away by bugs) held the same unmistakable green iris which had once looked on Wendy with love. But this _thing_ , this monster, it was not her mother. It was using her mother's corpse like a marionette.

It drew the yellow nails through Wendy's hair, its teeth (revealed by the decay of the lips and cheek flesh, rather than any grisly smile) nipped her ear, drawing blood. Wendy gripped the counter, unable to move.

 _"I'll sing you a lullaby…"_ It said in her voice, but without moving its jaw. _"Hush, little baby, don't say a word…Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird…"_

Wendy shuddered when the corpse skidded her other hand around Wendy's neck. The texture resembled a cage of leeches, and Wendy couldn't help but let out a cry of pain when the nails dug into her skin.

 _"If that mockingbird won't sing…Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring…"_

The hand which was holding her hair tightened its grip and tore at the redhead's roots, The pain finally activated the parts of Wendy's brain reserved for fighting. She elbowed the corpse and tried to kick it in the stomach. The creature stepped out of the way, however, flies escaping its maw as it giggled at her attempts.

She tried to punch it. _Bad idea._ The creature grabbed her hand with one of her mother's, and a mechanical grip began to crush her bones. She screamed, kicking and punching, but the creature continued to press down on the many little bones which formed her hand.

Tears returned to her eyes from the pain and she watched as red ran between the aged knuckles of the corpse. Finally, she gave into the pain and fell to her knees.

"P-Please…"

It giggled again at her distress and released her hand. It kicked her in the stomach as she writhed on the ground, and reached back, slashing its hand across her face. She collapsed curling into a ball and sensing the flies which exited her mother's mouth and landed on her shoulder.

 _"So hush little baby, don't you cry…your Mama loves you…"_ The corpse grinned down at her as the world faded into black. _"And so do I…"_

"Wendy! WENDY! Wake up!"

Wendy could feel her aching bones being shaken. Her eyes blinked open and focused on Mabel. She was bent over Wendy's position on the floor of the bathroom, her eyes full of concern.

"Is…is she gone?" Was all that Wendy could get out before she felt pain rush her body again and she fell into the other teen's arms, vomiting onto the bathroom floor.

 **[0** **]**

In the room next to the one which Wendy Corduroy was brought, an old man was living off of a machine. Seconds after, he saw something at the window of his room. Something revolting and skeletal, which bared its teeth to him.

Within seconds, his heart had failed, and he lay dead in the bed.

 **[0** **]**

"Pacifica?" Mabel asked, not sure why as she had called the blonde on this number before.

 _"Yes?"_ The girl replied, Mabel able to visualize the sneer which crossed her face.

"I wanted to call to tell you, that I might not be able to come to the party?"

 _"What?! But this is my chance to introduce you to everyone."  
_ "I know, I know, it's just…something came up and I'm not really in the mood anymore."

 _"Okay, Troy is going to be real disappointed."_

"Who's Troy?"  
"He's the guy who I was going to set you up with. If you don't want to come then, I'm just sorry that I couldn't help you make more friends. I worry sometimes that you're too cooped up in your little world, but it's none of my business. I won't try it again, promise."

Mabel bit her lip and looked to Dipper. He had collapsed in his seat, hands to his sides. He was muttering to himself just to stay awake. The look of horror he had gained upon seeing Wendy, upon seeing the various wounds and mutilations somehow inflicted silently, returned to memory.

"Well, I guess we could stop by. But only so that I can introduce him to Mavis and Brianna, okay? We both really need to just get some rest."

 _"That's fine. Just as long as you guys stop by."  
_ Mabel was about to ask something else, but Pacifica said goodbye before she could open her mouth. Sighing, she approached Dipper and put on a smile. "I'm going to ask Stan to drop me off at Paz's party. Do you want to stay here or go back to the Sha-"

"I'm coming with you."

Mabel frowned. "Oh umm, great. He uh, he should be here any second."

She turned away, her memory turning the resentment in that voice over and over in her head. There was something else, however. He knew something which she did not, and he wasn't letting her out of his sight as he had Wendy.

"It's at an abandoned amusement park…just so you know…"

"Yippee."

 **[0** **]**

When they stepped out of the hospital and into the parking lot, the last person they expected to be there was waiting for them.

Sixteen-year-old Gideon gave them a huge grin, stepping closer. His hair was wearing spectacles. Both twins backed towards the automatic doors.

"Relax, relax, I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to offer you a chance. Mabel," She shuddered when he said her name but it didn't seem to bother him. "I'm finally the right age for you. Leave your brother and your uncle, and I swear, no harm will come to either."

She made a gagging noise. "In your dreams Gleeful."

He stepped closer, still smug as ever. "Fine. But know that all the suffering which comes next…it's _your fault_."

He turned opened the door of his limo and cast an eye towards Dipper. "I see that your arm has healed."

"All the better to punch you."

The boy gave a half-chuckle. "It's ironic, you spend all your time trying to protect her from me…when you really should be trying to protect yourself from _him_."

As he said this, Stan's car pulled up. Then he was gone, into the depths of the car, leaving nothing but a sinking feeling in the stomachs of the Pines twins and a bad taste in his mouth.

 **[0** **]**

 _ **See you guys for Trick or Treat part 2!**_


	7. S1, E6: Trick or Treat Part 2

**_Could you guys tell me any words which you notice I use too much? I want to better my vocabulary._**

* * *

 **Episode 6: Trick or Treat, Part 2**

 _"There is no passion so contagious as that of fear." –Michel de Montaigne_

 _"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." –H. P. Lovecraft_

* * *

"What should we do with the body?" Bergmann asked Miss Grey as one of his strongmen exited the tunnel, the teen they had just fed to the Trickster slung over his shoulder. Blood trickled from the stump which The Trickster had made out of his left arm, and it stained the shoulder of the man's shirt.

Miss Grey moved to their muscular assistant, raising the head and staring at the pasty skin. She let go, allowing the head to smack against the goon's exposed shoulder blade. Gideon had left seconds ago to give "Mabel one last chance", and that left his employees waiting to hear the screams as The Trickster unleashed havoc.

"Throw him in the river, bury him nearby, I don't care what you do with him. If anyone ever finds him, they'll think he's a bear victim. Just get _rid_ of him."

Bergmann stuck his tongue into his cheek and scowled. "Fine. I'll figure something out…"

 **[0** **]**

The party was as detestable as Dipper had anticipated.

Rap blasted from a boom box positioned on the back of somebody's pickup truck. Two colossal tables stood, each hosting a variety of snacks stood to either side of the party. One ran against the Hall of Mirrors, while the other stood next to the gravel pit which was functioning as a parking lot.

As it turned out, he and Mabel were the only two at the party, who were not wearing costumes.

At the front gate, they had been greeted by the laugh of a sixteen-year-old dressed as a pirate. He was probably more amused by how worse for wear the two of them looked, rather than how neither was wearing a costume (as Pacifica had requested when inviting Mabel and telling her to bring a plus one).

They had been working on a phoenix costume for Mabel, but after Wendy took them into town for more supplies, she had gotten a call to stop by her house, and ended up sending her brother into the emergency room when he pissed her off. Not long after that, while in the hospital bathroom, the cashier had fallen into a mental breakdown and somehow fragmented the bones in her own hand.

As it was, neither was in the temperament trashy conversation and loud music.

"God, it took you guys forever to get here!"

Both twins looked up and found that Pacifica was eyeing them. Dipper looked away feeling uncomfortable with just looking in the same direction as her revealing costume. It was supposed to be some kind of gothic vampire dress, but the entire thing was made to accent her breasts.

"Mabel, you told me that you could afford your own costume." The blonde placed her gloved hands on her hips.

"I told you that there was an emergency!" Mabel replied.

"Never mind. BRI!" Pacifica shouted across the horde of dancing teens.

Her friend, Brianna, appeared in seconds. "Yes, Paz?"

Dipper found her dress even more ridiculous. It was a sexy nurse outfit, with a little fake blood splashed on it.

"Take Mabel to the bathroom stalls so that she can get changed."

"Wait, with wha-?" Mabel began to question.

Paz shot a glare at her for interrupting and Dipper had to take a deep breath to calm himself. "I bought a costume in advance. Now, go! Chop-chop!"

Watching Brianna lead Mabel through the crowd, Pacifica squinted at Dipper. "Oh great. _You're_ here."

Dipper placed his hands in his pockets, probably to stop himself from punching her. "Yeah, something eerie is going on and I wanted to be here to make sure that it doesn't happen to her."

Pacifica sighed. "Just don't weird any of the guests out. It's embarrassing enough to have a creep like you at my party, but some of the kids here come from very important families."

Dipper snickered. "Well, it's the opinion of this creep, that everyone, spoiled rich kids included, is of equal importance."

Pacifica turned a hideous look upon him. "What? Wait, are you some kind of hippie communist? It would explain the government paranoia…but you're not cool enough to smoke weed."

He folded his arms. "I'm not a hippie anything. I just don't like it when people step on my sister because they think that their _better_ than she is."

A darkness entered his features with these words, and Pacifica took a step back, briefly forgetting her training in self-defense and finding herself with the wish to call out for some jock to come scare the gangly boy in front of her away.

Then she revived her composure. "Whatever. Just don't try the big brother act with Troy."  
"Who the hell is Troy?"

Pacifica smirked. "He's the guy who your sister's going to be dating from now on."  
Before Dipper could ask for further clarity, she turned, her attention drawn by some other guest. Glancing around, Dipper located the bathroom stalls and weaved through the crowd.

He intended to stand outside until she exited, and burst inside if he heard any sounds of pain from his sister. He would not leave her alone tonight. He could taste the fear in the air.

 **[0** **]**

Mabel found the costume a little strange.

It pinched in various places and it was probably the least colorful thing she had ever worn (it was dark purple). Her surroundings did not help her feel any less awkward.

The stall which she had changed in wasn't much more than some organized splinters, and the dank restroom was lit by a single and rather ineffective, bulb. The source of light had attracted a swarm of moths, who Mabel was able to watch as she changed out of her sweater, tee, and shorts, and into the full-body catsuit (it was literally a cat themed suit).

She stepped out of the bathroom stall, feeling off balance and extremely self-conscious when Brianna, sitting on a stool she had positioned beside the far right sink, looked her up and down.

"I don't really uh, I don't think that this costume is a good idea..." Mabel said, avoiding the other girl's eyes.

"What makes you think that?"

Mabel fought for the correct articulation. "I-I don't have the s-same body as you and Paz…"

"You mean that your breasts and ass aren't as big?"

Blushing, Mabel turned back towards her clothes. "I-I'm going to change back."

"Don't." Brianna stood up and moved to her side, guiding her out of the stall with her hands on Mabel's shoulders. "Troy's gonna love it. Paz too."

Mabel's brow furrowed. "Why does _she_ want me to wear this thing anyway? It's less of a costume and more of a tracksuit."

Brianna sighed. "She likes to be in charge. Sit down, I need to do your makeup." She gestured to a small wooden stool and Mabel did as commanded.

"But why would she want to be in charge? When you're in charge, you're stuck worrying about everything..."

Brianna shrugged. "I guess her parents never gave her any control. Hold your breath and stop fidgeting." Her fingers worked quickly, moving the brush across Mabel's cheeks and around her eyes.

"Sorry."

"Don't say anything either."

Mabel's eyelids lowered and she. "You know, you're pretty controlling too."

"I guess that's just the chain of command. There's always someone worse trying to emulate."

Mabel shifted. "You know, you're not as…"

"Shallow as you expected?"

Mabel frowned. "You laughed at somebody because she was short."

"What, the stalker?" Brianna didn't look away from her work.

Mabel sighed. "You know, people make mistakes. She told me how people treated her after…after everyone found out about her obsession. It was stomach turning."

Brianna stopped and met Mabel's eyes. "Oh, what; if someone had a closet full of pictures they had taken of you, tell me that you would want them to be treated with the utmost respect?"

For a moment, Mabel reviewed Gideon's threats, the ones which he had given just half an hour ago. Then her features hardened. When first breaking loose of the water tank he had tried to drown her in, she had been given to opportunity to get rid of him. To rid herself and her brother of his attention.

She wouldn't have even needed to kill him. Just cripple him. Cripple a nine-year-old child. Yes, it was inconceivable for her, but considering what he had done to Dipper, wasn't she being selfish by not doing the right thing and making sure that he couldn't hurt her brother?

"I give people second chances." was all that Mabel said, her eyes now avoiding Brianna's.

Letting out a bitter exhale, the other girl returned to her work, brushing the make-up at twice the speed, her motions quickened by her own frustration.

"There. Done. _You're welcome_."

Mabel stood, staring at her reflection. There were black rings around her eyes, and whiskers painted onto her cheeks. Her complexion was twice as flushed, and her lips were much redder.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, well, just stick your chest out and Troy will be all over you!" Brianna stated as she trudged out of the dusty bathroom.

 **[0** **]**

Dipper trailed Mabel for the whole evening, despite finding her costume extremely distracting. In fact, pretty much every girl at the party looked like something out of a parody porn. It made him sick.

Not because he held any kind views regarding the ways that other people should dress. They could wear nothing a strip of cloth as far as he was concerned, it was their lives, not his own. And it was not because he held any convictions regarding the objectification of women in his society.

Again, their lives, their decision. He had enough things to worry about, without the clothing of other people.

What made him feel queasy, was how desperate it all seemed. Like they spent all their time squirming underneath the thumb of their parents, under the public eye, and this one night was the closest thing they had to release. So what did they do? They challenged each other to dangerous dares, they dressed like prostitutes, and they pretended that there was no tomorrow.

Now Dipper spent most of his time feeling like a farm animal in a cage. But he didn't allow that feeling to manifest as some idiotic "screw everybody, let's live for today" philosophy. He just bottled it up inside and lived with it like an adult.

In that way, he felt sorrier for them than annoyed by them. That didn't mean the entire party simply wasn't his kind of thing. He had never been around this many obnoxious individuals at once.

And then they ran into this muscle-brained dolt. Pacifica introduced him as the Troy who she'd mentioned earlier, and he kissed Mabel's hand as though he was a knight. His costume was that of a Roman gladiator, which Dipper was ninety percent sure he had donned merely to show off his abs.

Captain of the lacrosse you say? How did he have time to go to practice, when he obviously lived in a tanning booth?

Dipper definitely wasn't envious of this guy, no, not one bit. That wasn't him. He wasn't the resentful type, no sir.

That spite turned inward when he was confronted with the question of what he truly disliked about this individual. Did he hate how this guy had everything he did not? Or did he just hate him, because as a person who wasn't related to Mabel, he was able to engage in flirting with her?

 _Even if you weren't twins, she wouldn't flirt with you, dumbass._

"Dipper! Troy invited me to play truth or dare with him!"

 _Why? So that he can get a look at your tits without going through the nice guy routine?_ "Oh. How nice of him."

Dipper glanced between his sister and the circle of people. They looked like hyenas, welcoming his sister into their den.

"Can I play?" He asked, considering whatever degradations which might follow, better than standing next to them as they had a good time, hanging over his sister as though he were her bodyguard.

"Sure, why not?" Troy replied with a perfectly indentured smile.

He sat down beside his sister, eyeing the other participants. There was the girl with pigtails, Mabel introduced her as Mavis. She was Pacifica's second in command crony, he knew that, and she was wearing a witch costume.

Sitting beside her, was a nail-biting stoner who caught Dipper's gaze. Then his eyes darted away. He too had not worn a costume, although aside from his dreads, he was the picture of Shaggy a la Scooby Doo. He would occasionally reach out, and grasp the hand of the bleach blonde beside him, a boyish girl with a nose ring.

And then there was Troy. He was listening to Mabel's story about the parrot costume which they had not completed, probably thinking about the ways he would screw her later tonight as he nodded without his smirk moving an inch. The bleach blonde looked pissed off that she had to share presence with Mabel, who had too much individuality for her taste.

She asked Troy for a cigarette, which he supplied with his actual smile. Then he asked if everyone was ready to start. After the unanimous yes, he took it upon himself to be the first.

"Mavis."

She jumped as soon as her name was spoken. "Y-Yes?"

"Truth or Dare." He slung an arm over Mabel's shoulders as he said this, and Dipper felt like vomiting after she giggled at Captain Tan's expression.

"Truth." Mavis decided, clutching her backpack a little closer to her body.

It took all of two seconds for Troy to come up with a question. "Have you ever thought about knocking off Paz?"

The stoner and the snotty girl found this hilarious, as did troy. Mabel did not.

Mavis squirmed, and Dipper was surprised by Troy. He had considered these people all puppets to Pacifica until now, and he would have been impressed that they weren't awful enough to see her behavior as suitable, had he not been disgusted.

One thing he could not abide was cowardice. And to mock someone behind their back, was some of the most cowardly behavior he knew of.

"No. I-I haven't…although I have…I have thought about…strangling her. When she starts calling me names its…it's the only way I can think to shut her up."

The stoner giggled like Mavis was joking about throwing eggs at someone's house.

"And-and when she's on the ground...heh, I'd…I'd kick her and call her all of the things which she calls me." A smile broke across Mavis's face, and Dipper caught the look of revulsion which dawned on Mabel's features.

The snotty girl took a long inhale and spoke as soon as the smoke had left her mouth. "If you ask me, all she needs is just a good spanking."  
Her boyfriend, or at least, the stoner she was allowing to hold her hand, found this to be the funniest thing he'd heard all night. Mavis covered her mouth as she giggled, and Troy's smile turned more genuine. Dipper had a perfect idea of what image his mind had just leaped to.

"Okay, my turn! Uhhh, Kennedy! Truth or Dare?"

The snotty girl (apparently named Kennedy) smirked. "Truth, I don't have anything to hide."  
"Okay. Wh-what actually happened between you and Derek last year?"

Dipper and Mabel were not able to grow more horrified, as they had no idea who Derek was. When Kennedy's turn came, she pointed a thin finger at Mabel.

"You. Truth or Dare?"

It took all of five seconds for Mabel to consider the previous truths and decided she wanted no part in them. "Dare."  
Kennedy's sneer expanded. "Okay. Go find Paz and spill this-" She extended a cup filled with beer. "-on her."

Mabel grew pale. "Oh. Umm. Okay…"

She picked up the cup and stood. "Be back in…a second…"

Kennedy shook her head, "Ah-ah-ah! Mavis, you go with her to make sure that she goes through with it."

Mavis nodded, moving to Mabel's side. Dipper watched as the stoner leaned against Kennedy, kissing her lower neck. She ignored him, instead turning her attention to the most muscular person there. "Okay, Troy, you can go while we wait for her to get back and take her turn."

Troy smirked and turned towards Dipper. "Great! Say, what's your name again? Doppler?"

Dipper nodded along. "Yeah. My name is Doppler."

"Okay, Truth or Dare?"

Dipper breathed in the moist air. He didn't have any secrets. Well, none except for the little matter of him being attracted to his sister. But how would Captain Tan know to ask about that?

Dipper had no intentions of being goaded into making out with the stoner for these idiot's amusement either. Better to get some embarrassing information out of the way.

Something about the look in Troy's eye, made Dipper rather uneasy, however.

"Truth."

He didn't know what part of him made the decision for the rest of him, but he wasn't sure he trusted it.

Troy's leer doubled in magnitude. "Okay; what kind of panties does your sister wear?"

Dipper blanched. He had expected every question but this one.

 _How many times a week do you jerk off?_

 _When's the last time a girl who wasn't your sister could stand your presence?_

Anything to humiliate _him_. Anything but this.

A beam tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, I don't know the brand. But don't worry, I'm sure they're not the same color as your's buddy."  
The stoner must have only been humoring them before, for now, he bellowed with laughter. Kennedy and Troy didn't find his joke nearly as funny, however. In fact, the latter of the two looked ready to break his nose.

He couldn't though, and this Dipper took sick satisfaction in. _You can't hurt me without screwing up your chances with Mabel, you asshat._

Dipper fixed his cap and turned his attention to the stoner, who was still laughing. "My turn."

 **[0** **]**

It took Mabel several minutes to find Pacifica, and when she finally did, she paused.

Turning to Mavis, who held an excited look on her face, she spoke her mind. "Why are you guys so mean? I get that Paz can act kind of mean, but she doesn't deserve for you guys to fantasize about hurting and humiliating her."

Mavis rolled her eyes and let out a deep breath. "You're just trying to weasel out of the dare."

Mabel was about to respond when they rounded the Hall of Freaks and overheard Pacifica speaking on the phone.

"I've got it under control! If you would just-"

Her voice was choked with frustration, and she sounded about ready to break down. Mavis took one look at Mabel and then turned away. She was not going be subject to the wrath of a Pacifica caught crying.

Mabel watched her go and then poked her head around the side of the tent. Pacifica was pacing back and forth, trying to get a word in but drowned out by the person on the other end.

Then she stopped, drawing quiet, and her whole body becoming still. The frustration was gone. Only fear remained. "N-no…I'm s-sorry, no sir, it w-won't happen again…"

She clicked her phone shut and found Mabel staring at her with a blank expression. "Ugh. What is it that _you_ want?"

Mabel didn't say anything, she just poured out the plastic cup on the ground and turned away, leaving a very confused Pacifica in her wake.

When Mabel got back to the circle, she found that Dipper and the stoner were both in hysterics, while everyone else was staring at her brother in annoyance or confusion.

"What did I miss?"

Dipper grinned. "Charlie here just kissed Troy."  
The stoner, apparently named Charlie, fell over and began kicking up soil. Troy looked up at her, his smile gone. "It's your turn."

"Oh, uh…truth or dare Troy?"

"Dare." He was glaring at her brother.

A grin crinkled her cheeks, and she took a second to give a coy expression. "I dare you…to go into The Hall of Freaks, and bring me back something." She folded her arms triumphantly and he chuckled.

"Easy."

He stood and his grin returned as he walked to dilapidated freak-show, gesturing for them all to follow. After some brief hesitation, most of them they did, and eventually Kennedy sighed and ran after the group. Several people who had been previously dancing or gorging themselves, caught on and joined in on the spectacle.

The building was long and thin, once having been a warehouse. An Illuminati sign had been spray painted on the side, one which briefly caught Dipper's eye and then faded from his memory. Alongside it, there were cruder images and words, many of the latter directed at Sherriff Durland, Principal Horn, and Mayor Bantam (some at all three).

The faded posters of attractions long gone clung to the sides of it, the amazing Mermaid bumping elbows with the Many Eyed Man. Lots of torn purple and green paper which had once improved the atmosphere, now peeled off between the posters. Of course, the building was locked, but Troy bashed open the chains with one hit from a rock, and the two rusty doors swung open. The sound of them smacking against the wooden walls of the building echoed down the massive hall, and the mob of teen peered in.

Troy struck a match and stepped inside, the light revealing the many empty cages and fish tanks. He stopped at the very back of the building, picking up an old dolls head and rotating back towards them.

"Piece of ca-"

Grim laughter filled The Hall of Freaks, and all of a sudden the posters and the cages became the least awful things in the building.

Troy's eyes widened. He could see the horror which grew on all of their faces as a hand, black as tar and with fingers as spindly as twigs, reached over his shoulder. Its fingers coalesced on the match, snuffing out the light and leaving him alone with this creature, unable to see it.

The doors slammed close on their own, and Troy's screams filled the night air, loud enough to drown out the blasting music and alert everyone at the gathering, that something was definitely wrong.

 **[0** **]**

Pacifica had been speaking with Brianna when she heard the scream. She marched over to the crowd, pushing her way through petrified teens to get to the doors. Mabel was standing there, staring at the doors and mumbling to herself.

"I should have known you would be involved. What's the matter? What's going on?"

The doors tore open, Dipper pulling his sister out of the way. Pacifica was not so lucky. She was sent to the ground, the wind knocked out of her by the metal door flung off its hinges.

Everything slowed down, and what was probably just minutes, felt like hours as she wrestled with consciousness. She could tell that people were screaming, running in all directions. Abandoning her to whatever had caused the screaming.

She could hear a brief, sharpened discussion. Someone was insistent that they needed run like the others, while the other person wanted to save her.

"FINE." The first person responded.

Then two pairs of hands gripped her shoulders, and Pacifica got a good look at what was standing in the doorway. A naked man, standing over seven feet tall, with the head of a goat. Blood dripped from his gnarled horns, splattering atop his head and staining his course gray hide. As well, she could see blood dribbling from many different places on his undernourished form.

Whether it was his own blood or someone else's, she was ignorant to. But Pacifica held little interest in finding out.

The hair was not thick enough to conceal the various pentagram shaped scars on his stomach and chest, which made Pacifica wince just to stare at. Neither was the hair numerous enough to keep her from seeing his mutilated testicles. He gave a perverse grin at her notice and revulsion of his biology, one accented by the broadness of his bestial teeth.

His eyes held the rectangular pupils of a goat's, while his teeth belonged in the mouth of a goblin shark and his hands were that of an ape's. He must have towered at least eight feet tall, and he bleated as the chains wrapped around his wrists prevented him from charging straight at her.

Pacifica fell briefly unconscious at this point.

When she awoke, she was lying in the back of her limo, hushed voices coming from the front seat. She glanced out the window, and immediately regretted it. People were screaming, The Hall of Freaks was on fire and several cars had been turned over.

One boy ran straight for her car, begging to be let in. But before she could do anything, a pair of claws dug into his shoulders, and an eyeless pterodactyl launched into the sky, dragging his body kicking and screaming along for the ride.

He hit the ground seconds later, his neck snapping on impact.

"What…what's going on?" She called to the people up front, neither her driver.

Mabel Pines appeared at the slot through which she and the driver usually communicated. "We're just looking for the keys to this car…"

The limo rocked as a charging pickup slammed into the side of it, causing the car to lurch horrendously. Pacifica realized, thanks to this occurrence, that they had put her seatbelt on her after dragging her over to here.

"…you wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?" Asked Mabel as her brother began cursing and tossing things about.

"My chauffeur has it, you morons."

Dipper pushed his sister out of the way of the slot. "Where is he?"

Pacifica bit her lip and he grew impatient. "We don't have all day!"  
"Shut up, shut up! I'm thinking…okay…I think he was by the Mirror Maze last time I saw him. That was the only place he could smoke in peace."  
Dipper nodded, "Mabel, stay here with Paz, in case I'm not back in ten minutes-"

"Dipper! I won't leave you!"  
"-you'll need to hotwire the car."

"NO! Besides…I don't know _how_ to hotwire a car!"

"It can't be that hard!" Dipper opened the passenger seat door.

"I know how to hotwire a car," Pacifica admitted with a raised eyebrow.

The twins were briefly surprised, and then they relaxed. Pacifica got out of the limo and rushed to the driver's side door, sliding inside and bending to work with the wires. She could feel their eyes on the back of her head.

"I am working as fast as I can. Why don't you look in your nerd book and figure out what those things are?" She asked without looking up.

Dipper sighed. "I left The Journal back at The Shack because we were supposed to only be out for a quick trip. Besides, it doesn't say anything about a life-sized animated marionette, or a giant bear!"

Pacifica half stood. "What are you talking about?! All I saw was goat man and a pterodactyl."

Dipper frowned, mentally inspecting her, then himself.

Mabel glanced between both of them. "Ummm, maybe now's not the best time…but I saw people were being attacked by a swarm of uh, demonic bees."

The hush brought by this statement was broken by another THUMP against the car and Dipper crouched down next to Pacifica as his sister tried again to contact Stan. He spoke as she worked, her fingers becoming numb from the acuteness of the work. "When and where did you see a goat man?"

"While you two were dragging me away from the freak house…"

Dipper turned to Mabel. "Tell Stan to get The Journal and meet us at the Library, that should be far enough away from this chaos, and maybe I can dig something up about what it actually _is_."  
The car jolted to life and Pacifica sat upright. "Do you know how to drive?" Mabel asked as Pacifica put the car in gear.

One look at the rearview mirror told the blonde that the goat man was right behind them. She turned and hit the gas.

"I've taken lessons."

 **[0** **]**

Candy listened to Mabel's instructions, only able to get a word in edgewise, once. "B-but why me? Things are really strange outside." She glanced out the hospital window, parting the blinds to cast her gaze on the people who were running through the streets.

"Listen, Stan isn't answering his phone, so you'll have to get Dipper's journal. Now, if you're not up to this, just tell me."

Candy bit her lip and cast a glance towards the room where they had placed the teen she had found in the lake. "I'll do it."

 _"Great. We'll meet you at the library."_

The click of her friend hanging up made Candy's stomach hurt. Candy had seen horror movies before. Plans always fell apart. When something went wrong, it always went wrong after someone said "don't worry" or "See you there."

Picking up her book bag, she took a deep breath and exited the hospital. Why, on this of all nights, did Mr. Pines have to be absent?

 **[0** **]**

Stan watched as the energy fluctuated on the readout. He couldn't remember the last time that he had seen such powerful readings. Tonight was the night.

With the twins and Wendy absent from the house, he could finally activate the machine without anyone becoming alerted to it. Perched in the control room, he was alone with the beeping of machinery, and the voice of the A.I. as it offered reads on the current spikes of interdimensional energy.

He watched as McGucket flipped the switch, and the two of them basked in the rapture which they had brought upon reality and all its tedium. The rainbow of colors, coalescing to form streaks so bright that their goggles proved of little use.

For the first time in god knows how long, it was working. It was actually working.

 **[0** **]**

Pacifica parked in the lot behind the library, ushering them towards the back. Again the twins were surprised when they found her fall to one knee and start to pick the lock with one of her fingernails.

"I go to a special school, okay? Please, just drop it at that."

The twins did as requested.

All three teens bolted inside, slamming the door closed behind them and working together to bar it with a table. The air inside the building was stuffy, and the entire thing was dark. Everyone had left some time ago, and the shelves and displays looked became quite unsettling in the quiet dark.

Dipper rushed off to find the building's generator and returned after he had switched the lights on. He handed one of the two flashlights he had found to Pacifica, figuring that he and Mabel would most likely stay together. Hearing voices outside, he moved to the glass doors at the front of the building and gazed out.

He almost wished he hadn't. Cars had been overturned. Buildings were on fire. People were looting, brawling, and even just standing still and screaming at one another, seeing who could physically damage their vocal cords the most.

Whatever the monster which had attacked the party was, it had made everyone in town go ballistic. Well, scratch that. It had turned them _more_ ballistic than usual.

He would hate to be out in the woods on a night like this, the Brotherhood would become twice as dangerous.

Mabel looked her brother's way as, with grave concern, he stared out the window. "How is Candy going to get in?"  
Pacifica turned away from her phone call to the police station, cupping the phone with one hand. "You invited _her_ here?"

Mabel scowled. "I didn't invite her, she was my only option for getting Dipper's Journal."  
Pacifica seethed, snapping the phone closed. "How many times do I have to tell you this before it gets through your thick skull? She's a loony. The only reason she hangs out with you is because your pretty, and she's a pervert. And the best possible scenario for her sad little life is that she moves far away from any place where there are children!"

Dipper glanced between Mabel, who looked about as angry as he had ever seen her, and Pacifica, who had returned to her usually pissed-off, pissy self. Her fear had waned, and with it, her humanity.

He stood and spoke before Mabel could jump on Pacifica, physically or verbally. "Mabel, you stand by the door. If you see Candy, let her in. Anyone else…you should probably lock the door. This thing is a shapeshifter, but I don't think it knows Candy exists. Paz, you need to get me every book you can on the history of this town, a lot of those have hints about monsters."

She looked ready to say "No way in hell", but when she heard screaming outside, she sighed and strode towards the non-fiction section, muttering to herself.

Dipper turned to Mabel, who was eyeing a dictionary, probably about to lob it at a certain blonde. "Hey! We need to stick this out until daylight, okay? You guys can't be fighting."

Mabel turned to him with tears in her eyes. "Oh? So now you agree with her, too?"

"Of course not. But you'll have plenty of time to tell her that she can go fuck herself _after_ we have survived this. Understand?"

She pulled out of his grip, trudging towards her assigned station. Dipper watched her go and let out a deep breath. A skitter caused him to turn his attention to the corner of the library, and he found himself looking at a stuffed lynx.

Shaking himself, he turned towards the center of the abandoned library. He hoped that Candy hurried up.

 **[0** **]**

"REPENT! REPENT! Judgment day is upon us, only those who fall to their knees and repent for all the sins they have committed will be spared eternal damnation. This great country has gone astray in the belief that its depravity can go unseen, for the eyes of God are unwavering in their observation. Neigh, it is the work of conspirators in the highest positions, sewing discourse where there should be acceptance and corrupting your very children with concepts of mutiny and arrogance!"

Candy considered whirling around the second that she first spotted the men and women dressed in red and brown robes. She doubted that they would let her by, and even if they would, they looked exceedingly menacing. Some carried torches, while others boasted sickles. The one who seemed to be the leader stood atop a pile of burning furniture and books.

The rest of the strangely dressed individuals chanted along whenever he said something which they had probably heard a thousand times before. A dozen people who were not wearing cloaks, praying at the foot of his pile.

Some were sobbing. Some clutched children.

But this was the only way to The Shack, without cutting through the woods. And even someone who had only lived in this town a year knew better than to walk in the woods at night. Especially on this of all nights.

She tried to move past the cultists, without alerting any of them, but the leader leaped from the pile, landing on his feet right before her. The golden sword and cross imprinted on his cloak rippled as he sniffed her.

"YOU! SINNER!" He screeched, an accusatory finger scratching her neck with its unclipped nail.

He smelled of dead animals and filth, his voice almost as intolerable as the stench which he shared with his cohorts. Candy cast a pleading look towards one of the people who were not in cloaks, but they refused to associate with the sinner.

"N-nothing wrong. I do nothing wrong. Please! I am in a hurry!" She tried to back away from them but bumped into a massive woman draped in the same blood red cloth and found that she placed a meaty hand on her.

"Listen to her Nathaniel, she can't evin' speak proper English."

"Aye. She's a foreigner. Come to steal our jobs and drive our race extinct. And a dyke at that! Do you think you know better than God? Taking his word in vain to indulge in your filthy practices?"

Candy repeated herself, her voice this time cracking. "I do nothing wrong! I do nothing wrong!" At this point, the words sounded more like a self-assurance than a denial.

"LIAR! We know all about your deranged fantasies, and we have allowed you to go unpunished for far too long."

She called out for help, but those who were praying were too terrified to move, let alone intervene. A thin man handed a heated branding iron to Nathaniel, who chuckled as he brought it closer to her face. "This is what happens to slant eyes who go chasing our daughters!"

Candy found tears come to her eyes. She would have fallen to her knees, right then and there, had the woman built like a pile driver not been gripping her shoulders. The teen could feel the heat on her cheek, the metal already inches away.

"Leave her alone."

The cloaked people turned, and Nathaniel snarled. A girl stood five feet away, a sawed-off shotgun aimed at them. She was wearing a stained white tee shirt, her nipples clearly unrestrained by a bra. Her hair was short, almost nonexistent. She looked like she wasn't much older than Candy, but she was taller than most people Candy knew and had the grimness of someone who would never back down. A long scar ran from her lower right cheek to the top left corner of her forehead. Her hazel eyes briefly focused on Candy, before darting back to the preacher.

"Do it now. Let her go and crawl back to whatever pit you retards escaped from."

The confessors leaped to their feet, dragging their confused toddlers along. They wanted no part in this, all of a sudden. Candy didn't know if they had returned to their senses, or if the girl with the shotgun was scarier than the end of the world.

The woman holding Candy hissed. "We don't take orders from dykes."

The girl raised the shotgun and aimed the barrel at the woman's head. "How about heavily armed individuals?"

Candy knew very little about guns, or weapons in general. But she knew that if the shotgun actually went off, she was more than likely to receive some of the shrapnel which would escape the barrel.

Nathaniel stepped closer. "Now see here you whore-!"

The girl pumped the gun. "My arm's getting tired. Now let go of her, and find someone else to lynch."

He growled, but after a few seconds of her scarred visage against his cloaked features. Finally, he made a little whine and grabbed Candy by the collar. She tossed the Korean teen into the girl's arms, turning away and gesturing for his the other cloaked individuals to follow him.

Candy looked up and found that the girl's expression had softened. "You okay there?"

Nodding, Candy stood, thanking the girl as best she could before wiping the tears from her eyes. Then she remembered Mabel and apologized to the girl for having to rush off as she did just that.

 **[0** **]**

Pacifica flipped through a book describing the mining history, wondering how Dipper thought any of these would be of some help.

Then her eyes caught a picture morose enough, that she ceased her flippant approach. It was a sepia toned picture, depicting a skull which wore a miner's helmet. As her eyes scanned the page, they widened.

 _"…as a result of the mangled fashion in which the bodies were found, rumors began to circulate that a flesh-eating creature lurked in the tunnels. The Norwood Family, responsible not just for pushing the operation despite refusing to pay for safe enough equipment and thought to be responsible for hiring the Union Busters who forced the miners to work, came under the subject of blame. There are stories that a mob almost invaded their house in the wake of the mine collapse, although personally I believe these to be false._

 _As repentance for the mine collapse, the Norwood family shut down their mines and commissioned a monument to the miners beside the sign to the town. They also promised that they would hold a festival every year for the farmers of the area, generating the employment lost as a result of their mines drying up._

 _Needless to say, the monument was taken down during the sixties by Elise Norwood, who claimed that it was detracting from the "charm" of the town. As well, the Harvest Festival eventually became a mock Halloween. This change was inspired by the fireside stories told regarding the "Mount Faith Monster" or as it was more commonly referred to, the "Mount Faith Trickster." These stories originated as an explanation for the bite marks found on the bones of the trapped miners. They eventually developed into the local bogeyman story that children into the shutdown mine tunnels, and ate them there."_

Pacifica had to take a brief break, to stop from hyperventilating. When she finally continued, the information was anything but comforting.

 _"In the decades following this first change to the nature of the Harvest Festival, there have been multiple disappearances surrounding the holiday's date. Police blame this phenomena on alcohol, claiming that many teenagers and young adults (the most frequent targets of the disappearances) travel through the woods as a result of being drunk and that their bodies are not recovered as a result of the local wildlife._

 _But I do not believe this to be true._

 _In 1981, a local historian and librarian found the three missing people of that Harvest, in the basement of a factory scheduled for demolition. One was torn in half, another covered in venomous bites. The third had exploded from the inside out, through unknown means. No perpetrator was ever found, although the violence was blamed on the local crime syndicate._

 _I believe that the reason for these murders is far deeper. I believe that a cult has been controlling this town since its foundation, a cult which is made up of sadists disguising themselves as holy warriors. How else could these disappearances continue, year after year?_

 _Curiously, the disappearances were absent for the following ten years. Perhaps the cult was scared by the attention?"_

"Find anything?"

She looked up and found Dipper had ceased reading an account of the interactions between the settlers and the Native American's who belonged to the area, while the latter had still been around. He was now giving her an expectant look.

"Nope." She slapped the book closed, and he detected something wrong with her smile. Still, he shrugged and returned to his research.

Turning away, she gave some excuse about the bathroom, and moved there as quickly as possible, without appearing suspicious. It was a one room place, and she locked herself inside, facing the mirror as she dialed the only person who would know about this.

 _"Yes, this is Preston Norwoo-"_

"Why didn't you tell me that there's a murderous spirit which attacks every Harvest Festival?"

He chuckled. He fucking chuckled.

 _"It didn't seem imperative. The creature always goes after easy targets. It's not attracted to our blood like…other entities. Unless…you were too weak to resist falling for its mind games?"_

She had to stop herself from screaming. "You-you knew this and you did nothing?! How am I supposed to mentally prepare myself? Oh, for god's sake. Just send a helicopter to the library, I'm hauled up in here with Dipper and Mabel and if they find out-"

 _"I will do no such thing."_

"W-what?"

 _"If they can't handle a little Alteration Fiend, how can I expect them to solve our_ problem _?"_

Now the blonde began to hyperventilate. "But…but I'm y-your daughter…"

 _"If you were truly my daughter, you wouldn't make such a spectacle of yourself, begging for help. Do you think my father cared about my well-being? Certainly not, I had to handle this town on my own. Now, listen, call me when something important happens. I'm in the middle of a_ very _important business meeting."_

And with that, he had hung up.

There was a knocking at the door. It was Mabel. "Paz! Get out of there!"

The blonde realized that her eyes had turned wet, and she reached to them, brushing the moistness. It was coming for her. That awful creature was coming for her.

 _Alteration Fiend_. As though it were the most natural thing in the world.

 **[0** **]**

Preston slid his phone into his jacket pocket, wondering for the millionth time why he couldn't have been granted a son.

He turned and forced a smile for his guests. "Sorry for the interruption, it won't happen again."  
The demons on the other side of the blood red portal he had just addressed, appeared to consider his promise amusing.

 **[0** **]**

Mavis stumbled through the mirror maze, her long tracks of tear melted mascara making her reflection even stranger as the glass cracked everywhere she looked. The Trickster stomped after her, resembling the approach of an elephant.

Never before had Mavis prayed to God. But at this point, she was willing to join a blood cult if their deity would show her the way out of the infernal

She tripped over a junkie with his wrists cut open, and her face collided with a mirror. The glass shattered, falling across her chest as her head struck the wood behind the glass, and her body slid to the floor of the hall. Those deep, rumbling chuckles filled the air and the stomping ceased just beside her.

She raised her face and began sobbing. "Please, please no…"

The obese, gray corpse which leaned over her chuckled again, blood spattering from its lack of eyeballs and running down its sagging tits. It pushed one chubby hand down on her stomach, no muscle behind its attempt, just weight. Like an anaconda, it unhinged its jaw, beginning to eat her from her feet.

When finally her entire body had been consumed and then vomited up, The Trickster turned two feet and walked out of the building's exit. As the night air struck its malleable skin, it sniffed and detected the trail of Dipper Pines.

It had gorged itself sufficiently. Now was time to finish this.

Besides, he would be a particularly fulfilling meal.

 **[0** **]**

Candy rushed inside, finding the door, fortunately open. The Shack had already closed, but Mr. Pines and the old mechanic weren't here either. Neither was the redhead girl who always gave her strange looks.

The math genius ran up the stairs, poking her head into Dipper and Mabel's room. Dipper's journal lay on his laptop, and she picked it up, catching her breath on the leisurely descent down the stairs.

She stopped when she heard voices, and ducked into the kitchen closet. The back door was kicked open, Mr. Pines and the old mechanic entering with a large white bag underneath their arms.

A white bag, roughly as long and wide as a body.

"I'm telling you, this is the one."

The old mechanic said nothing, just staring at the bag mournfully. "His parents are going to miss him…"  
"Ah, lighten up Fids! If this works…then they'll have better things to worry about." Mr. Pines chuckled darkly, and the two stumbled toward the basement door.

A red light extended out of the doorway, striking the kitchen wall. Unlocking it, Mr. Pines let go of the body and let it slid down a flight of stairs.

"You know, if this works, I'm gonna teach you how to drive Fids."

Again, the other elder did not answer. Instead, he just turned his attention to the closest and suddenly his mournful look was directed at her. For a heart-stopping a moment, she considered what the two of them might do to her if they found out that she was aware of their grave robbing activities.

Then the shorter of the two drew the thumb and forefinger of his left hand across his mouth, tossing away the imaginary key once completing the act. _Our little secret. Not a word._

She nodded, although she was unsure how he could see her.

"C'mon Fids, I can't do this on my own."  
Staring after his boss, the old man entered the portal to hell and slammed the door close behind him.

Candy didn't stick around to see if he would tell her. She ran like hell, the book under arm. Perhaps the strangeness which had effected everyone else had struck those two as well. Or perhaps not.

 **[AT\0/BASH]**

Dipper shook himself awake.

The lights above helped wipe the nightmare from his mind and he sighed. He must have dozed off at some point. Again, he was left wondering what had scared him so much, although this time the curiosity was accompanied by more than a little tedium and frustration.

Glancing down at the fifth book he had skimmed through that night, Dipper closed it without hesitation. Zilch. Feeling like he had on many nights when his father had forced him to stay up late and work on his Algebra, Dipper stood up in hopes of stretching his legs.

He turned to ask Pacifica if she had found anything. But she was missing.

He stretched and moved to the center aisle of Non-Fiction. "Paz? Pacifica?"

The door to the restroom was open, revealing the room to be empty and dark. Dipper glanced towards the front desk. The stuffed woodpecker was gone.

So too, was his sister.

"Mabel?"

A hand touched his shoulder and whirled around, heart running at a million miles an hour.

His sister took a step back, her hands raised in defense as he caught his breath. "Sorry, you scared me. Wait a second, where did you get that bat?"

She glanced at the well-polished, wooden baseball bat in her right hand as though first seeing it and smiled. "It was framed on the wall. I guess it belonged to someone who used to work here."

"Okay, well…where's Pacifica?"

Mabel shrugged, her smile dying to indifference. "She went upstairs."

Dipper groaned. "We're supposed to stick together!"

Mabel sighed. "Okay, you stay here…I'll apologize to her…if it keeps her from killing herself and us."

She strolled towards the staircase, her brother watching until he heard knocking on the door, and turned to see Candy outside, holding up The Journal. He ran over to the glass doors and opening the door.

She stumbled inside, leaning on the desk for support. She had a nasty bruise on her cheek and was panting for breath. Her jeans had torn at the knee, and her hair had become unkempt with the addition of sweat to the equation.

Dipper didn't bother asking if she was "alright." He just led her over to the table.

 **[0** **]**

The electrical current surrounding the corpse ceased, and Stan stared at the body with bloodshot eyes.

They had failed. Yet again, they had failed. Well, _he_ had failed. McGucket had just been around to witness it, once again.

Cursing all the dimensions, he demanded that the corpse be removed from his house immediately. He couldn't stand to see his own failures. They reflections of life spitting in his face, repeating that everything he had ever accomplished was a lie and a sham.

McGucket lugged the body up the stairs.

 **[0** **]**

Mabel climbed the stairs, his breath growing shallower as she called out for the blonde. Pacifica was not responding, however, and her frustration was increasing with every second that she was given the cold shoulder.

"Pacifica? Listen, I'm sorry I called Candy alright. I know how difficult it can be to see someone who…is obsessed with you. But we don't have time for thi-"

She stopped when he reached the top of the stairs, her eyes locking onto Pacifica's bulging ones. The girl was rattling about on the floor, her body pulsating with every brutal kick she received.

Standing over her, was The Goatman which Pacifica had described earlier.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Mabel swung the bat without a second thought.

It shattered against the beast's backbone, splinters flying everywhere. Mabel called for Dipper, and a growl drew her attention back to the monster as she staggered down a the stairs. As it turned towards the brunette, the Goatman's skin peeled back to reveal a metal skeleton. Its horns snapped off, smacking against the carpet, right next to the recovering Pacifica. The flesh was fried off by the heat which glowed from every point, steam escaping the empty sockets as gears and cogs turned.

Its right arm twitched as it drew closer, a recording of tinny laughter echoing through the library as the automaton gave a mockery of human laughter by flapping its jaws up and down. The photoreceptors in its eyes focused on her, the bulbs behind them turning red as it raised a left hand. There were six fingers there, each one a rusty cutting knife.

Mabel tried to turn away, but tripped on the carpet and struck the pine stairs, The Robot laughing again as it stomped towards her. A metal boot landed on her chest, removing any breath she might have been holding onto. As she struggled to speak, let alone wiggle out from underneath the boot, she noticed its forehead.

Her disgust doubled when she saw the glass dome which lay there, or more specifically, the human brain inside. Like something out of a bad horror movie, it was pink instead of gray and was covered in tubes which pumped chemicals in and out. But that lump of flesh wasn't a robot. It was a person. A human being who had been fashioned into a piece of junk, something to be thrown to the wayside in a few years. A human being ready to be replaced by newer, better people, with less flesh.

The vocal recording snapped on, and the crackle of Dipper's voice caused her to cease her struggling. _"Aw, c'mon Mabel, stop being a baby…it doesn't hurt_ that _much."_

It tore across her stomach and she screeched, finally kicking the leg off and rolling onto her knees. As soon as she had stood, a metal hand had grabbed her by the throat and tossed her over the railing. The last thing she saw, was the cyborg waving mechanically, its eyes a bright green.

Then she collided with the table in the center of the library.

 **[0** **]**

Dipper stared up at The Marionette, its grin mocking the pain it had just caused his sister. He kept his eyes on it as he scooped Mabel up, and had only gotten a brief look at her scars (exposed by the torn costume) before he heard the monster's squeaky rehearsed merriment. The Marionette's mouth did not move with the laughter, he saw. Instead, it was broadcasted from a secondary source, whatever source was dancing the monster around. That wooden jaw could move if it really wanted to. Its head was the size of a watermelon, its black button eyes each as wide as a tennis ball. A smile had been carved out of the redwood from which it had been fashioned, each tooth pointy. It wore a torn up jester's costume, one stained from too much dancing. Strings extended from the arms and legs of the monster, fading up into the darkness of the rafters.

He turned away, gesturing for Candy to follow. The two of them, him still carrying his sister, ducked down a narrow section. Books toppled at their feet, the squeaks growing louder and louder as he searched for something with which to defend himself.

Then he remembered the gun which Stan had given him. Standing up Mabel, he asked Candy to help bring her somewhere safe and turned to face the monster. It was five feet away, having moved downstairs quickly and silently.

The lines which connected to its limbs were golden, Dipper could now see, and most likely unbreakable judging from the aura which surrounded them each. It was missing multiple fingers, and one of its ears had not been finished.

Dipper was reminded of the story of Pinocchio, the book being something he had decided his at the time eight-year-old, Disney loving sister, was not ready for. The book had been filled with dangerous and disturbing situations. But the illustrations with which the edition of the book Grandpa Shermy had gotten him were endowed, bumped the book up to a whole new level of disconcerting.

Pinocchio had looked like something that an automatonophobe draws in therapy.

Removing the pistol, Dipper suddenly became aware of how sweaty his palms were. He switched off the Safety and spoke with all the courage he could manage. "Leave us alone."

It giggled again, and its eyes gave all the intent it needed. _Not us. You little boy. You're coming with me, one way or another, so give yourself up._

"I'm serious, I'll do anything to protect her. _Anything._ I'm not going to let you bastards hurt her." His teeth ground together as he aimed at its head.

The marionette's smile somehow grew more ominous, and it rapped on its head with its left hand. It wasn't hollow judging by the sound created. _Yeah, your little bullets sure are going to be_ real _helpful._

His opponent began moving, its black eyes refusing to blink as whatever force controlled it moved its limbs with an uncanny precision which eventually gave way into jerky spasms the instant Dipper spun and sprinted after Candy. The jester's cap fell from the marionette's head as it chased after him, the giggling of children echoing around its prey. Dipper took one look behind, and as he passed a book cart, he kicked it into a book cart into its opponent.

The marionette was brought, by the strings, over the obstacle, but it did falter long enough for Dipper to dart into the "Employees only" section and lock the door behind himself. Candy cowered beneath a desk, the unconscious Mabel lying right next to the girl's black slip-on shoes.

Dipper quickly found a cart to barricade the door with, the lock jiggling the entire time. He turned to Candy and bent on one knee, inspecting his sister.

She wasn't bleeding too badly, and her chest was still moving with breath regardless of how nasty those bruises on her neck looked. Still, one look at the cuts on her stomach sent him wondering why he had ever thought it a good idea to let her go upstairs on her own.

Her costume had been half shredded as a result of the monster's attack, a crease in the latex traveling up the suit and ending just below her chest. It would have looked erotic if not for the scratch marks on her stomach.

Dipper tore a piece of his shirt off and used it to staunch the bleeding. Then he removed his vest and with Candy's help, he got her arms into it. He zipped up the vest and returned to applying pressure to the wounds.

He spoke as he held one hand over the other, the warmth of his sister's body just below his hands. "Candy, I want you to call the police. I'm not sure if they'll come, given all the madness right now, but I need to try."

She nodded, removing her cell phone from her jean pocket.

"After that, call Stan, I'll give you the number."

She looked like she was about to say something when he mentioned Stan, but before she could give her concern, the jiggling of the doorknob ceased. Then the lights flickered, once, twice.

And then, they were plunged into darkness.

 **[0** **]**

Robbie was alone.

He did know where he was, how he was alive, or why he was here. But he knew that he was alone.

Fog surrounded him from every side, swirling and constantly moving, drifting just below his chest level. As he stood there, in a vast landscape of nothing, the fog moved more and more, revealing various bits of rubble as well as the casks of split mortars and Civil War cannons. As he stared at the nearest war machine, this one boasting a big enough barrel that he would have been able to climb inside, the sounds of a factory began to fill the air.

There were shouts, hisses of steam, and the rumbling of gears and sprockets manufacturing the bullets and the cannon balls. Shivers ran up and down his spine as Robbie turned in circles, trying to determine the cause of the sounds.

Something massive flew overhead and his attention snapped up towards it, in time for him to see the massive shadow it cast upon a cloud. The ground beneath his feet gave way, and his cleats speared the muck. As he writhed to free himself, the sounds of footsteps alerted him that he was no longer alone.

He looked up and became completely still. Cathy was staring at him, looking exactly as she had the day she died. She had the same chipped tooth, the thin, deathly pale face. The only difference was that her eyes completely black. That is, he thought they were until he looked harder. He could see things, things without shape or mind forming and mixing in that ebony ooze.

"C-Cathy?" it came out with a weakness which the universe had not heard in many years.

She shook her head. _"We are not the soldiers. We are not the casualties. We are the bullets."_ She gave the impression of a giggle, but the sound was as vacant as this landscape. _"That's what Mr. Sweetdreams says, and when you know everything, knowledge is a lot less important…"_

Robbie stared down at his feet and found that he had fallen to his waist in the muck. "No! Cathy! Cathy, please! Help me out!"

She gave him such a sad look, that his heart skipped a beat and his struggling ceased. Then those gray eyes began to melt, the beasts behind them wriggling all down her sundress and splashing in the mud at her feet.

 _"Mr. Sweetdreams is so much worse than the monster under the bed, Robbie. But there are bad guys who want to welcome him. You've got to kill the boy with the book before he makes a deal the whole world will regret."_

The ground completely gave in and Robbie plunged into a blackness a thousand times darker than the streaks which ran down his sister's face. She watched him go, mouthing the words that he would never be able to make out.

Robbie opened his eyes and found an old man fishing him out of the water. He coughed and sputtered as he struck the wood belly of the rowboat.

"Son, you were just about gone."

Robbie couldn't respond. The pain in his arm had returned like a nightmare, and all he could hear was buzzing in his ears. That and those last words.

 _Kill the boy with the book before he makes a deal the whole world will regret._

 **[0** **]**

Dipper Pines was, at that very moment, holding a match between thumb and forefinger. He had dropped his flashlight while running from the monster and had just handed his gun to Candy, despite her attempted rejections. It occurred to him, as he moved to the door, listening for the slightest tell (even though marionettes didn't breath), that in his current state, he resembled a skinnier version of Troy.

Then the door was shoved open, and a blinding light pierced the darkness. As he shielded his face, Pacifica stepped inside.

"You left me, to DIE." She growled as she closed the door behind her and locked it.

Dipper was about to puzzle out how the door had been unlocked without them hearing it creak open when the lights came back on, and Pacifica lowered her light. "You could have at least checked to see if I was dead."

Dipper turned toward the body of his sister. "I was pre-occupied."

She rolled her eyes and then froze when she saw what was in Candy's hand. "Umm, why did you give the psycho a gun?"

Candy grew distressed at the nickname, while Dipper didn't reply. He just asked for The Journal.

Once Candy had given him The Journal and waited for him to pace away, she stood. There was barely concealed rage in her voice as she looked away, muttering "I am not psycho…"

Pacifica hounded her, sneering to reveal all her teeth. "Oh, sorry. What's the politically correct term for people who should be locked up?"

Dipper didn't look up. "Would the two of you be quiet?! I'm trying to concentrate."  
Candy placed the gun on the table and stepped closer, her voice cracking. "Do you think I liked it? You think I wanted this way?!" Pacifica grew silent as the Korean girl met her eye, stepping closer with every hate filled word she spat. "Do you think I want to this country? Do you think I want to fall in love with _you_ of all people?! You are cruel. You are undeserving someone like Mabel. And you are nothing but _stupid_ _little_ _girl_!"

Pacifica felt her back touch the wall of the office, Candy seething in front of her. The girl was three-quarters her size and probably was incredibly weak compared to the blonde's athletic build. Her voice should have sounded laughable, despite the hate behind it, the words were still wrong, and the words of a child, or a young adult who still looked like a child.

But they mirrored her father, her mother. And especially the whispers she heard in the Punishment room.

"Shut up…" She muttered, falling into a sitting position and staring up at Candy, whose frustration had turned to confusion. The girl didn't apologize, she didn't back down, she just gave Pacifica all the more disgusted look.

She didn't get to give out those looks.

"…shut up, shut up…JUST SHUT UP!" Her mind reliving the whispers, so ironically enough, she couldn't get herself to stop talking even though Candy already had. "SHUT UP! SHUT. UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUT-!"

Dipper turned towards them both, snapping the journal closed. "Could the two of you _bother_ to wait five minutes and save your _bullshit_ for until after I save your worthless asses!?"

Candy's face turned soft and she nodded, sitting down beside Mabel like the good little girl that she was. Pacifica was stunned into silence, but she didn't let that last long. She shot mental daggers at Dipper.

"Well, if you're so important…then tell us oh wise one…tell us what your big plan is?"

Mabel murmured something and Dipper ignored Pacifica. He snapped close the book, fitting it underneath his arm as he leaned his ear down to her mouth. "Mabel? Are you okay?"

Pacifica stared at the carpet as she continued. "Go ahead, tell your sister your _big_ plan! The one that's going to save her."

Candy sent a glare her way, but Dipper still didn't pay her any attention. He listened to Mabel's whispers.

"You're not ever going to leave me, are you?" She asked, her voice quiet and indifferent if not for a tiny alteration to her usual tone. "Things aren't going to change…are they?"

Dipper stuttered for some answer, and then Pacifica's latest jibe hit his ears.

"You couldn't stop me from getting strangled, you couldn't stop your sister from getting cut up…how are you going to do anything?" She sounded almost distant, the twins trapped in their own world. Still, her words wiggle their way into his mind.

Mabel sighed, spotting the rage which struck Dipper's face. She gave a weak chuckle, as though the entire situation were one very exhausting joke. "Silence always means 'no', _right_?"

Then her eyes closed with that sad smile.

And Dipper leaped to his feet in anger and turned on Pacifica like a snarling bear. "You always have to be the center of attention, don't you? If someone tells you to be quiet…for five fucking seconds… _you can't do it!_ Why? Because you know better. Because you're more important than _everybody_ else."

Pacifica jumped to her feet. "I'll be quiet. You just tell me your plan!"

"I need more time-"

"You're lying. You always came up with some shit real quick the other times you guys were in trouble! So, what's the plan?"

"TIME! I need to know more. I need _more_ ti-"

"We don't have time!"  
"Because of your shi-"

Pacifica walked right up behind him. "No one's coming for us. So do the one thing you're good at and figure out how we're going to kill that thing, or at least get out of here."

He threw The Journal to the ground and screamed into her face, eyes bulging. "THERE IS NO PLAN, OKAY?! THERE'S NO PLAN, THERE'S NO WAY OUT. THERE ISN'T ANYTHING. WE'RE FUCKED, CAPICHE?"

Pacifica stared at him, her face full of satisfaction. That satisfaction quickly turned to dismay as she realized that she was going to die in this building. Candy's eyes turned to Mabel, her body shaking with despondency.

Dipper wasn't paying either of them any attention, however. Once his panic had been activated, it was impossible to slow him down.

He paced in a circle, running a hand through his hair and muttering. "There is no plan because I don't know shit about this thing. There is no plan because I don't know shit. With the faeries, Mabel was the one who remembered about the iron. With the ghosts, Wendy was the one who saved me. Mabel defeated Gideon on her own, I just got in the fucking way. I can't do shit because I don't know shit."

Dipper paused staring at the wall before jumping back into the circle. His eyes were on a path to nowhere, over the hills and through the valley, and past the fucking sun. "I've only survived this long on dumb luck. I can't save you, I can't save Candy…I couldn't even be there to stop Wendy from getting hurt. I'm useless, okay? I'm a fraud."  
He would not stop moving, his whole body shaking with cold sweat. His fingers were bugging out, tearing his hair and grinding against his scalp. His lips parted, grasping for words that he could not articulate for how quickly his mind was running. "I'm not the hero here, I'm just someone who creates problems. And I can't stop any of it from happening, no matter what I do." He picked up the gun, and Pacifica stiffened as he waved it about, his eyes focused on something only he could see.

"So if you have any plans..." He sat down, taking Mabel's hand and rubbing it nervously, like she, or him, was on their deathbed. "…I'd be happy to hear about it."

Pacifica stared at him, then at the gun in his hand. "Bullshit."  
He raised his eyes, loathing the fact that she couldn't just leave him alone. Why couldn't everything just leave him alone?

"You spend all day with that stupid book and now you're just giving up on the whole thing?"

Dipper kept his eyes on Mabel. "I'm not giving up. I'm giving in. I spend all day with the book, because it comforts me, to know that I have some sense of control. But I don't. I never have, and I never will."

"That's the laziest excuse for being lazy that I've ever heard."  
He tossed her the gun. She caught it without even thinking. "I told you. The Journal doesn't say anything about shapeshifters. I don't know anything. I can't do anything if I don't know anything. And even if I did know something…it probably wouldn't help, because when you are beaten, _there's no point in wasting the energy_."

His breathing became choked. "I should have stopped kidding myself and given in a long time ago. I knew this would happen. I knew it and I wanted it…because I'm a failure who wants to drag everybody else down with me."

Pacifica looked at the top of his head, her chest beginning to ache. She watched as he returned to holding Mabel's hand, this time gripping it as though she was his mother and he was a child who had just experienced a nightmare. His eyes were wet, his breathing halfway between wheezing for air and sobbing for comfort. Every time that he got himself under control, he fell back into despair.

It was the most brutal cycle which she had ever held witness too.

Finally, she couldn't take his labored breathing and Candy's shuffling feet. There was no point in keeping the lie if she and they were to end up dead because of it.

"Here. HERE!" She threw the book to the floor. "Here is all the information you'll need! That thing out there, it's called an Alteration Fiend! I don't know what a 'fiend' is, but…that's what it is. Now look that up in your little book and figure out a way to get me, your sister, and Jae out of here…because none of us…none of us deserves to die."

Dipper flipped the book open to the page she had dog-eared. His eyes scanned the information and his teeth ground together. "How long… _how long_ have you known all of this?"

Pacifica backed away. "Just a couple hours, I didn't think it was worth bringing up."

He stood. "You liar." She winced, and he continued. "Why didn't you tell me? Why the fuck didn't you tell me?!"

"Why does it matter? Just-"

Dipper snatched the gun out of her hand. She didn't even resist. "My sister is hurt because of you…my sister is hurt _badly_. So before I decide whether to save your worthless hide, I want to know; _why didn't you tell me?"_

Her back hit the wall, and again he drew too close for comfort. Then Candy spoke, placing a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "Leave her alone. She is not worth it."

He nodded, looking even more worn out than he had before as he sat back down and read.

Pacifica waited to catch her breath, and then, after a few minutes of sitting in the awkward silence, she forced herself to speak. "I hid the book because…I didn't want you and Mabel to know how horrible my family is. The things they've done…the ways that they've ruined this town…and others. It-it's unforgivable."

She took a deep breath, and continued, painfully aware of Candy's eyes locked on her and of how Dipper had not looked up once. "If you two didn't want to see me anymore…my parents would be angry. See this, this was my once chance to…this is my one chance to…they wanted me to be friends with you two after you defeated the Fairs. This was my final test, to get you two on their side. This was my last chance to…" Her eyes turned to the gun, which Dipper had now left on the floor.

"…escape."

The word hung in the air, the batting of the fan the only sound to be heard.

She had not revealed the nature of her parent's plan but had admitted how fake their interactions were.

 _Great work. You told half of the truth, and now he's never going to trust you. He's never gonna let you near his sister again either._ Pacifica didn't know why these two were so important. But they were the two most genuine people she had ever met.

Saying goodbye, or not even _getting_ to say goodbye was a heartbreaking concept. _Once, again, you've proven yourself your parent's daughter. A manipulative cad who ruins lives._

When Dipper finally finished reading, he met her eyes. "You and me both."

He gave out a crooked laugh. "Now, let's kick this thing's ass."

 **[0** **]**

The Trickster kneeled on the table in the center of the building, waiting for the first to exit the room. It was currently without proper form, the innumerable smell glands which served as its only sense, picked up the adrenaline released by its prey.

The door peeked open, and The Trickster grinned. Pacifica Northwest darted out, putting her cross-country training to good use. She sprinted down the hall, The Goatman launching after her and weaving in the way that only goats moved. It brayed swiping out with one claw. The nails raked across her hair, and she fell down in front of the main table. Moaning, she tried to crawl away, but the fiend had her in its grip.

She was such a potent meal, that it could not resist drawing out the entire process. There would be plenty of time for Dipper Pines. This meal had _so_ many scars. Its tongue slid out and ran across her cheek, the flesh rough enough to break the skin and draw blood.

A bullet struck The Trickster in its hind leg, and it tossed the blonde aside. Another shot, this one to the chest. Since it felt no pain, these were just minor annoyances, and The Trickster turned towards the source of this annoyance when the third bullet struck. It had already begun to transform when it smelled the source's location.

Little. Weak. Pressured from every side. A fish out of the water, a little girl in a foreign land. Messed up, beat down, ripped off, and tossed around.

Its arms twisted and it released the pheromones needed to activate the meal's subconscious. As it continued towards the glass doors where its new meal stood, The Trickster received a fourth shot, one which did real damage. In the state of alteration, it was at its most vulnerable.

The girl saw this, and fired twice more, emptying the gun. Although The Trickster's progress was slowed by this, the terror created by the click-click of the empty gun, filled the meal with panic.

It would have laughed, had it a true mouth and a sense of humor. Such things were derived only from the meal's mind, the monster's habits to fit the bill.

However, as it loomed within arm's reach of the girl, its cells grew confused. Its translucent tentacles whipped the air as it struggled to find her hallucination and transform into that. Usually, the pheromones evoked whatever would draw the most adrenaline out of its meal, but just now, the meal's vision had gone all blurry. The meal could not see it, and thus, it could not change its shape to fit whatever it was she would be afraid to look at.

No matter, it would throw her to the side and finish the scarred meal. There would be plenty of time to eat her later.

As it came to this conclusion, a piercing light filled the air and it turned.

The glass of the doors shattered as a limo rammed at 80 miles an hour into it. The Trickster was launched back by the force of the strike, its body smashing against the concrete wall. Bits of glass sunk into its ebony flesh, drawing the purple liquid which was its equivalent of blood.

Its cells ceased to function in the correct mutation, and it latched onto the first form which it had ever taken. An animated tar-bodied scarecrow, one with a large hat and a little mask to conceal its lack of eyes and its mouth full of razor sharp teeth.  
Dipper and Mabel Pines stepped out of the car, the latter in pain, but smiling nonetheless. The girl with the gun put her glasses back on and rushed over to the blonde. She helped get her up as Dipper Pines opened the back door, allowing the first rays of daylight to enter the gloomy library.

As he did, it spoke, its voice hissing in Mabel's ear. _"The worst of his fears are yet to come."_

She gave it an unimpressed look, before hobbling over to it and kicking it in the guts which were spilling out of its midsection. "Shut up, you big meanie."

And with that, The Trickster returned to the form it had always known before the Norwood's dug it up and trapped a bunch of meals in it. The Trickster turned into a dark blue ameba and started to evaporate.

 **[0** **]**

Pacifica asked Candy as the smaller girl helped her exit the building, what she had seen the monster as.

Shrugging, Candy responded without looking away from the ambulances and police cars which had clustered the town square. "A drowned girl."

She looked up as they reached one of the paramedics. "You agreed to play as bait. You are not selfish or cruel as I thought. Much apologies."

Pacifica gave a smile as she was laid down on a stretcher. "Well, you're better with a gun than I expected. How did you know where to shoot when your glasses were off?"

Candy smirked. "I am farsighted."

 **[0** **]**

Mabel leaned against her brother as they drove to the hospital (all the ambulances were full, so Sherriff Durland had offered to drive them himself).

"I don't get it Dipper…you never explained what that thing was…or why it only attacks this night."

He smiled. "The Trickster was a creature from another dimension, a nitrogen-based life form which feeds on Adrenaline. It visited our world to feed."

Mabel nodded. "That's not too difficult to understand."

Dipper sighed. "I wasn't finished. I don't think that it ever intended to stay in our world, its kind is probably supposed to hop dimensions, since their solitary. But the fear of those miners who got trapped was enough that it gorged itself and slept in this world, instead of waiting to sleep in the next. Then that incident caused people to tell stories about it, which increased the fear and for a while the monster could just live nearby the town, feeding off of the fear. It didn't see a point in leaving."

"Well, that's not too-"

"Still not finished. Then people celebrated the night by trick or treating, and the stories became corny. People forgot about the miners, they stopped being afraid of the mining tunnels. So The Trickster had to enter town and hunt people to get the fear it usually received, especially as people became more and more desensitized to violence as the twentieth century wore on."

Mabel frowned. "Oh. Well, that's _way_ more complicated."

He smiled. "You should get some rest."

"Dipper…do you think I should stop being friends with Pacifica?"

He could tell that the Sherriff was listening in on their conversation. Had the Norwoods really cared enough about getting him and Mabel as allies that they had paid off the law enforcement to snoop? Or was he part of the Brotherhood of the Watchful Eye?

Either way, it didn't really matter.  
"She needs you, almost as much as Candy does….and certainly as much as I do."

She gave a little happy sound and snuggled up against his chest as he continued. "And I…don't think she's as horrible a person as she tries to be."

She giggled. "Well, now that I've got the Dipper seal of approval, I _have_ to stay friends with her!"

After a bit of silence, Mabel spoke again, her eyes still closed. "Thank you."

"For what?" He responded, eyes on the road ahead.

She looked up, a little surprised. "For proving that you wouldn't change. I don't want to lose my knight in shining armor, do I?"

He shook his head, even though he knew her eyes were closed and her head already tucked beneath his arm.

 **[0** **]**

Robbie watched as his now ex-girlfriend walked out of the room.

He refused to let her see him cry, but he could not stop the flow once the door had been closed. Two weeks. In two weeks, it should have been him and her forever.

But now she was leaving. Leaving while he was restricted to a hospital bed by his new impairment. Leaving before he could stop her.

 _"I can't stay in this town a second longer."_ AKA you are not enough to keep me here. Oh, those secrets, the ones that didn't exist, they held such awe-inspiring power, didn't they?

No, it had nothing to do with what she had done to her brother, Wendy had gotten away with worse, just like everyone in this town. No, it didn't have anything to do with seeing her dead mother.

Robbie had just lost his arm to a creature of nightmares, but had the idea of running from his problems even occurred to him? Of course not. She was supposed to be the one who made everything better.

It was the twins. Everything had changed when those two came into town, her passion, her goals, how much time she spent at work. They had been the change.

He could hear her out in the hall, talking to Dipper, telling him that she had to leave. He could imagine the look on the sap's face.

 _I would have killed for you_ , he thought, imagining Wendy's face as she broke the news. _Now all I'm happy that_ thing _attacked you. You deserve any trauma it inflicted._

She had used him, and in the greatest sense of the word. She had tricked him into falling in love with her, engineered him to be what she wanted him to be. And then? And then, when he was at his worst, she left without as much as an honest explanation.

What made the confrontation hurt all the more, was the fact that she had been able to come in here, and say it to his face in the first place. Especially, considering that he had lost most of his left arm. She couldn't be cowardly and leave without even telling him. No, he meant so little to her, that she was able to look him in the eye and say "I'm sorry."

Not sorry yet. But she would be. He would make her.

His ears picked up Dipper's squeaky questions, and as a nurse entered his room, probably with more meds, he spotted the red book underneath the boy's arm. The red book, the one that was full of creepy shit, the one that the kid always held.

The one that Cathy had warned about.

 _Kill him._ Kill _him before he makes a decision the whole world will regret._ Did it get any clearer than that? What was there to reflect on? The boy belonged in the ground.

Sure, Dipper didn't seem malevolent enough to cause the kind of suffering Cathy had been referring to (we are the bullets). But if anyone would do something as stupid as his sister described, it would be the boy obsessed with supernatural matters. The boy who stuck himself in trouble on a regular basis.

The boy who would welcome Mr. Sweetdreams like he was part of the family. Of course, Robbie didn't know who or _what_ Sweetdreams was. But the tone of his sister's voice had been enough to confirm, that the innocent name was ironic in nature. The being sounded big, big in the way which can only make you feel small and powerless.

Dipper turned, his distressed eyes meeting Robbie's within that split second. Then the door closed, and Robbie was left with the knowledge, that he would have to kill someone who had done nothing to him.

This morning, Robbie had a healthy body, a loving girlfriend, and a fragile but mostly sane psyche. Now, all of those things, along with the hope of ever leaving this town, had gone.

Sobbing was not a strong enough word to the moaning which he fell into those next few moments.

 **[0** **]**

Wendy pulled the seat belt over her chest with her good hand and placed that same hand on the gear shift. Her one lay on the wheel, offering little help as to driving for the pain it caused whenever she moved it.

Dipper appeared by the driver's side window of the van, downtrodden as ever. "Will you ever be coming back?"

Wendy took a long inhale. "Not sure Dippingsauce." She stared at the road ahead awhile and realized that Stan was watching them from the hospital entrance. She looked down at her little hero. "I know that you need to look out for your sister…but you'll take care of Robbie for me, won't you? He's going to hate my guts, and probably yours…but he needs someone to stop him from jumping off a bridge as soon as they let him out of the hospital."

Dipper gave a reluctant nod. She knew he would be uncomfortable with the idea, but she had no one else to ask to do this, and she knew that he was unwilling to refuse his crush. "Will you…will you ever visit Piedmont?"

She forced a grin. "Uh, sure…yeah…I'd…I'd love to meet your parents."

Looking back at him, she noticed that Stan was clutching his cane like a murderer clutches a club.

"It was nice knowing you Dippingsauce." She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"

He nodded, a little stunned, but still saddened. And with that, she had hit the acceleration and was streaking towards Main Street and the world beyond.

Stan watched her go and chewed on his cigar. _Great. Now I need a new bodyguard._

 **[0** **]**

Gideon stared at the twenty-year-old man in the mirror.

He looked haunted. Dead inside, or soon to be dead. The process was accelerating at a rapid pace. He could be an old man by tomorrow. He could be a corpse by the day after.

Miss Grey watched him from the doorway of his trailer. "So, what's Plan C?"

Gideon turned towards the bookshelf, opening his most prized possession. The book which had granted him everything. He flipped to the page which he had a thousand times before, a gruesome smile striking.

"Bring me phosphorous candles, enough anesthesia for ten people, and a goat. It's time to contact _Him_."

Miss Grey took a step closer. "Wait…you can't be serious! The last time that he was summoned it was chao-"

 _"WE DON'T HAVE ANY OTHER OPTIONS!"_ His entire body glowed blue as he said this, and she nodded, rushing out to retrieve the items he required.

He turned back to the mirror and chuckled. "If you're so insistent on protecting those two Stan Pines…then you'll be the one to kill them."

* * *

 ** _Code: Ru zoo dv szev gl uvzi rh uvzi rghvou, gsvm dv szev nliv gl uvzi gszm R gslftsg._**

* * *

 _From The Keeper of Worlds:_

 _Chapter 5: My heart just got assaulted by this short. So many emotions!_

 ** _I'm glad I could evoke that._**

 _Chapter 6: Oh lord, this version of the trickster is several more levels of diabolical and twisted than I ever thought possible. Things are about to get into a pure slaughter._

 ** _If you like this version of The Trickster, then I think you are going to love you-know-who._**

* * *

 _From Returdedphoenixmorph:_

 _Grammatical errors don't influence my views on the story but I am slightly concerned about the cutting off sentences. One thing I came to the realization during these two chapters is that this isn't a darker take on Gravity Falls. This is what Gravity Falls would have been if it had been on another channel. This is the show that I imagine Alex and the crew would want to make. And despite how much I love Gravity Falls, I'm starting to warm up to this story on worryingly high levels._

 ** _Thank you for the information. I will look for sentences which might trail off. Those are hard to find on the grammar checker which I am using._**

 ** _I'm not sure which network would approve of showing Dipper's sexual attraction to his sister, or of the slurs which I use. But I believe you are correct. This is what would happen if the show was for adults (or teens even)._**

 _Dipper Pines fears the unknown.  
Mabel Pines fears isolation/rejection.  
Wendy fears her dead mother or the cults and demons that she was possibly involved with.  
Stan Pines fears acceptance._

 ** _Close! Dipper fears manipulation, he is afraid that he is subject to the influences of outside forces (trust no one, not even yourself). It takes a lot to gain his trust because he is terrified that everyone hates him and is out to get him. He (foolishly) believes that if you know about the unknown, then you gain control of it._**

 ** _Mabel is afraid of change, or more specifically, growing up. Since she has always been the center of attention (relatively speaking since her parents are neglectful) she dreads being an adult, as adults aren't supposed to live with their sibling. They are supposed to be alone, work jobs which would make her tear out her hair, and then die alone._**

 ** _Wendy is afraid of death, or more specifically, a meaningless existence._**

 ** _Stan has little fear left in him, given how long he has worked to assure control, he is afraid that everything is going to be pulled out from under his feet. This is why he doesn't allow himself weakness, let alone acceptance. His plan is too important for human contact (he cheats with McGucket, since the old man would never betray him in a million years)._**

* * *

 _From Coldblue:_

 _REVIEW for Chapter 4_

 _Questions_

 _1) Why is Mable Pines so important to Gideon or the Norwood families? Is it because the end the world or to get to Stan Pines?_

 _ **Gideon is obsessed with Mabel because she is unattainable. She is the first girl to ever defeat him. The Norwood's couldn't care less for her, she's just a stepping stone.**_

 _2) Will Dipper actually use the Gun that Stan gave him?_

 _ **This chapter answered your question. :-D**_

 _3) Is Robbie going to get violent and do something crazy?_

 _ **Robbie is definitely going to do something violent and crazy. Out of body experiences and getting your arm bitten off can do that to a maturing young man.**_

 _4) Is Stanley Pines some for of Criminal Boss or one the MOST dangerous people in Gravity/Depravity Falls?_

 _ **He is one of the most dangerous people in the world.**_

 _Suggestions_

 _1) It seems like people are more interested in Mable than Dipper in this town. Maybe some prophecy or whatever. Such as Mable being called the Shooting Star or whatever. It could be because Stan so dangerous that some power struggle in this town needs to find a WEAKNESS in Stanford Pines to exploit. It just some ideas to think of._

 ** _Your line of thinking is on the road to a major plot point. I won't spoil anything, I'd rather yo uguys figure it our on your own._**

 _2) I can't wait to read that. Maybe if Robbie, Gideon or some DANGEROUS creature that Dipper does not know much about. Maybe some Cultist cannon fodder. I could read Dipper have a lot of issues after that and Mable trying to help Dipper get over killing someone. It just going to be interesting to read how far Dipper going to be pushed along with Mable, but Mable does not have a weapon yet._

 ** _Mabel can make weapons out of her surroundings (the needles, the chunk of glass), she's the resourceful one. Dipper is the master planner, she rolls with the punches._**

 _Review for Chapter 6_

 _Questions_

 _1) Will Pacifica actually live and become a better person because of Mable and Dipper?_

 ** _She will get better because of them. Whether she'll become a good enough person to change her fate, only time can tell._**

 _3) Are we going to read Gideon Gleeful die in "Depravity Falls"?_

 ** _There are worse fates than death._**

 _4) What does Preston Norwood need from Dipper Pines and is about the Norwood family issue that only Dipper can fix?_

 ** _Preston, like most people in this town, wants freedom from the things that he and his ancestors have done. He believed that Dipper is his last chance._**

 _5) Is the Machine still a portal to the Nightmare Realm or something else?_

 ** _The Machine is something else, but it is still connected to the dimensional barriers._**

 _Suggestions_

 _1) Pacifica Norwood could die, but I kind of like her character more in "Depravity Falls" you created. I don't know if it possible, but maybe. Pacifica Norwood reminds me or Wendy Corduroy, but complete opposites and have something about them you like. I do hope Pacifica actually begins to care for Mable and Dipper. Mable has captured Pacifica interests, but Dipper wary of Pacifica and teenagers in general that try to get to know them._

 ** _Interesting that you should say Paz is the opposite of Corduroy. They are quite different. Paz is an only child, Wendy has three brothers. Paz is afraid of continuing life the way it is, Wendy is afraid she'll die before she does anything worthwhile. Paz is from a family which has been rich since there America was settled, while Wendy is from dirt-poor Irish immigrants._**

 _3) Probably not in the next couple of chapters, but I feel like it soon. This is not a Gideon Gleeful that gets to live on. Gideon so obsessed with Mable Pines that he will risk his life/immortality, so I figure Gideon Gleeful a dead man at some point. It just seems to jump out at me._

 ** _Yeah, you can't cheat life out of granting death. He was doomed from the moment he came across the book of spells._**

 _5) I still think it a portal to the Nightmare Realm, but it could be some Doomsday device that just causes the NEXT Major Extinction or possible KILL the planet Earth. It just depends on you. It would be interesting either way. It could go either way. Demons of the Nightmare Realm destroy the Earth and are NOT contain in some Force Field that contains them to Gravity Falls or whatever. Either a man-made Apocalypse or Demonic Apocalypse._

 ** _A man-made apocalypse would be much less impressive than a demonic one. ;)_**


	8. Update 1

**Somebody is copying this story and reposting it on Archive of Our Own without my Consent.**

 **Update 1#:**

 ** _I have to re-write part of Episode 7, so it will come out a little late. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I got far and then realized that I had a better idea for the first half of the chapter. I only want to give you guys something which I am proud of, so there's going to be a pause._**

 ** _In the meantime, let's do some bullet points._**

* * *

 ** _1: The girl with the shotgun was the Depravity Falls version of Grenda. If I ever implied that Grenda might be dead/not exist, please tell me so that I may edit previous chapters because that was not my intention._**

 ** _I told you guys that because there seemed to be a ton of confusion regarding it._**

 ** _2: Thank you so much for the support. It brightens my day every time I receive feedback, constructive or otherwise. To know that you guys are getting so into this really makes me proud of it._**

 ** _3: The "Drowned Girl" which Candy pictured The Trickster as was a reference to the fact that there is a water ghost in Korean mythology. To Candy, it represented a freak, literally drowned under the pressures of modern life._**

 ** _4 – To specifically_** **The Keeper of Worlds _: I based The Trickster shamelessly on Stephen King's It, but the Fear Feaster sounds cool!_**

 ** _5: Wendy's story is not over._**

 ** _6 – To specifically_** **Coldblue _: Mabel didn't mean in a romantic sense when she said "knight in shining armor." What she meant, is that Dipper will conquer anything that threatens her. She believes too much in him (which plays into his Jonah Complex)._**

 ** _Mabel would be ecstatic if her brother had a girlfriend, she would feel conflicted if that girlfriend happened to be someone as manipulative (and spiteful) as Paz._**

 ** _Thank you for your patience and have a nice day._**

 **Somebody is copying this story and reposting it on Archive of Our Own without my Consent.**


	9. S1, E7: Three Seconds

**Episode 7: Three Seconds**

* * *

 _"Whatever does not emerge as Consciousness, returns as Destiny." –Sigmund Freud_

 _"Lost time is never found again." –Benjamin Franklin_

 _"Something's wrong when you regret,_

 _things which haven't happened yet..." –The Submarines,_ _"1940"_

* * *

Dipper was standing beside a dry pit, about to fall in for how the ground was crumbling beneath him. He jumped back and stared at the fish skeletons which littered the floor of the basin.

It was Lake Mortis; drained.

The river which led into it was just as dry and as Dipper noticed this, he realized how scorching the air was. It made little sense, as he couldn't even see the sun given how much green smog choked the sky.

The polluted sky fit the deforestation which surrounded him and the drained lake, as well as the blast scars which covered the hill. This place had been the subject of some battle which Dipper had trouble comprehending. The trees were so sparse, that from here he could see town while sitting down.

He closed his eyes and sat down on the edge of the lake, inhaling and exhaling slowly as he struggled to remember the last five minutes of his life. But he couldn't. Where he tried to recall, there was only a blank spot.

 _Acceptance._ He sat down in front of the dry basin. _Everything is fine. I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am fine. Everything is fine. I am exactly where I am supposed to be._

Memories, of this morning, returned to him, at the same speed that the world turned.

 **[0]**

 _"What are you two…doing?"_

 _When Dipper had been told by the nurse, that Mabel had requested to visit Robbie, he assumed the nurse was in some way confused. But when he stepped into Robbie's room, he discovered that Mabel's wheelchair parked on the side of the bed which houses Robbie's useful arm._

 _Mabel smiled when she heard him, and gestured for him to move over to them. Robbie scowled at him, somehow falling into an even sourer mood, but said nothing._

 _"Checkers, duh!" Mabel said as she moved a red piece._

 _Robbie swung his hand down off of the bed, and moved a black piece, taking two of Mabel's own. She pouted but smiled when she saw the flowers which Dipper had brought._

 _The dismembered teen grunted for her to start her turn. She inspected the board a couple of times, before moving a piece and taking the bouquet from her brother. "Thank you! Thank you! Oh, when I'm fully healed, I'm going to give you so many hugs!"_

 _Robbie let out a passive "King me" and Mabel did as requested, before asking her brother to recount if things had changed in Wendy's absence. She had not been to The Shack in the last three days but had asked for updates with his every visit. She had danced around the subject that it came out like "So has anything changed?"_

 _He supposed that she and Robbie must have really hit it off for her to care this much about not rubbing the sore spot of Wendy. Of course, Mabel probably would have attempted to have tact in the presence of a mass murderer._

 _"Well, I've taken over Wendy's position. Which is fine with me, it gives me more time to read The Journal. Stan is still interviewing people, although for what job I'm not sure. There all umm, really muscular and kind of intimidating."_

 _Mabel frowned, and Robbie grunted for her to take her turn. She did so and looked Dipper up and down, one finger nervously playing with the flowers. "Are you, uh, holding up?"_

 _Robbie rotated his vision towards Dipper as if to say "Yes, Dipper. Please, tell us how many times you've cried yourself to sleep."_

 _"I've been okay…umm, Candy stopped by as I was heading out the door. Apparently, she wants to talk to you about something."  
Mabel lit up, even as her opponent took three pieces. "Oh? Why didn't she just come by?"_

 _Dipper shrugged. "She said that she didn't like hospitals, also, that she had_ somewhere to be _. No idea_ where _, since this town has about zippy-do-da to do in it."_

 _Mabel nodded and turned back to the board. "You were going to visit the lake today, right?"_

 _"Yes, that was the plan…"_

 _She moved a piece took his hand. "Well, good luck! You'll text me if you find anything, right?"_

 _Dipper turned away. "Sure."_

 _Just as he reached the doorway, Robbie called out. "You're going alone?"_

 _Dipper turned, surprised by the older teen. Robbie's cousin had disappeared while at a cabin near the lake, but he sounded almost hopeful like he wanted Dipper to drop off the face of the Earth. Not that Dipper could_ exactly _blame him, his life had recently been ruined. If Dipper had lost an arm and the only person who mattered to him, then he would no doubt become wishful towards someone else's demise._

 _There was something else in Robbie's voice, though, some fear to_ be _hopeful._

 _"I'll…make sure to bring someone." There was a dark intensity to the disabled teen's gaze, and Dipper shifted; a bug under inspection._

 _As he opened the door and turned his attention to the hall, his ears picking up his sister's conversation with Robbie, and the vital details it entailed._

 _"Why are you so good at checkers?"_

 _"I used to play them all the time with someone."_

 _His sister let out a sympathetic noise, and he could picture her holding Robbie's arm and telling him that it would "be alright."_

 _However, Dipper knew that Robbie was not referring to Wendy. He was talking about someone else entirely. He filed away the information for later. Now was not the time to go grilling the crippled young man._

 _It was a little later when he had returned to The Shack. Stan had, surprisingly enough, shut down The Shack to hold interviews. While this freed Dipper of any obligations, it also meant that the day consisted of people coming in and out of The Shack, applying for the job which Stan refused to explain to Dipper._

 _When pressed, his answer had been "Security."_

 _Security for what? From whom? Who would want to break into The Shack, when it was literally filled with garbage? Not to mention, Stan had a giant collection of guns. Dipper had always assumed he acted as his own security._

 _After half an hour of waiting for Stan to cease speaking with a muscle toned man, with more tattoos than hairs on his head, Dipper asked if Stan would help him with his documentary regarding the lake. Stan's response was less than encouraging._

 _"AHAHAHA! You want me to waste my day with your crappy 'investigations'?"_

 _"_ Fine. _I'll go myself."_

 _"Oh no, you don't. Gideon is gonna have the place crawling with minions out to get you." Stan jerked him back into place by gripping his collar._

 _Dipper gave him a dubious look. "I think that you are overestimating how much power he has."_

 _"No way are you going alone."_

 _"Well, who am I going to-"_

 _Stan whistled and McGucket came running up the basement stairs, stubbing his toe on one of the table legs and rounding the hall. He hobbled over to Stan and asked to what effect his efforts should be put towards._

 _"You're going to escort Dipper here, to the lake. After an hour or so, you're going to escort him back."_

 _McGucket nodded and rushed off to get his coat. Dipper's expression turned from skeptical to frustrated as he spoke. "You want me to be safe, so you decided that the old man with a limp would be the best protection."_

 _Stan rolled his eyes. "McGucket is stronger than he looks. Now, do you want to go to the lake, or not?"_

 _Dipper exhaled. "Fine."_

 _As he, and the now coat-wearing McGucket, stepped out of The Shack, Stan leaned out the doorway and called after them. "And hey, you know what happens in this town around sundown, so don't lose track of time!"_

 _Dipper had given a salute and asked politely if McGucket could move a smidge faster._

 _As they moved through town, Dipper noticed something very strange. Whenever McGucket passed by, people straightened up, forced a smile, and spoke in softer and more polite voices. It was as if the old man was the principal of the school, and despite being senile, demented, and constantly in a state of dirtiness, whenever he passed, people became their friendly selves. They did their best to become innocent, for fearful of what wrath, Dipper did not know._

 _When McGucket asked if they could stop by the Greasy Ladle, Dipper had conceded, if only to see his effect on the patrons and staff. The mechanic ordered a piece of blueberry pie, and everyone but Susan kept an eye on him the entire time he ate. Some people even excused themselves, entering the bathrooms or exiting the front door just to be out of McGucket's vision._

 _Still, when the old man tried to pay, Susan said that it was "On the house." Now that caught Dipper's attention. The diner was hanging on by a thread, and she was allowing giving McGucket free food?_

 _What had he done to receive this treatment?_

 _It became a science experiment, bringing the old man about to see how different people acted in his presence. Dipper had to stop himself from pulling out his notepad and jotting down the effects on younger vs. older residents of the town._

 _At one point, Eddie, Wendy's little brother, ran up to Dipper. The two had talked a little bit, following Wendy's leave. He had excitedly explained about how a friend of his saw a dinosaur out by the caves just the other day._

 _Then he noticed McGucket. The old man turned towards the boy, a look of misperception and anger apparent on his wrinkled brow. Something loomed behind those gray eyes, something which made the Fey, the ghosts, and The Trickster look like jaywalkers._

 _Dipper felt a protectiveness sink in for the briefest of moments and almost reached out to protect Eddie. But then kindness dawned on that face and McGucket reached into the pocket of his coat._

 _"Would you like a lollipop?" McGucket asked, offering a yellow one to the small boy._

 _Eddie stared at the piece of candy like he was lucky to be alive. "Y-yes sir!"_

 _As Eddie reached for it, his father, a red-haired goliath if Dipper had ever seen one, practically charged across the street (startling Tambry and some boy Dipper had never seen) and scooped up his son.  
"Sorry sir, he's just curious, you know how they are at his age. Don't hold it against him. We'll be on our way and out of your hair, have a nice day."_

 _And with that, McGucket was left staring at the lolly, with such an incredibly sad expression that Dipper felt like hugging him. And he wasn't a particularly, affectionate person. That was Mabel's thing, he was the robot, and she was the empathy-police._

 _He watched as Wendy's father loped down the street, at too quick a pace not to be at least a little frightened. He was scolding his son, for even coming near McGucket. Dipper understood that the man didn't want to lose another child, his eldest had run off, and his second oldest was still in the emergency ward._

 _But why? Why the most harmless old man who Dipper had ever met?_

 _When Tambry passed by, a distasteful look on her face, Dipper approached her._

 _"Do you have any idea why everyone treats McGucket like he's carrying the plague?"_

 _The boy beside her asked who Dipper was. She ignored him and looked up from her phone to explain. "He used to be mayor, for several terms. Then he just kinda…fell apart. There's a crap ton of stories about what happened to his baby too. Some people think he ate him, other people think that he poisoned his wife, and then sold his baby to pay for his debts. My mom says it's all a load of bullshit, that he's just a crazy old man who got used by a cult and then spat out, like a lot of people in the eighties."_

 _With that, she turned away and pulled her the boy beside her along. He mentioned something about Dipper being the "weird kid" but she hushed him._

 _Dipper turned, trying to envision the old man doing anything of the sort. But how did rumors start? What could make someone go this far off the deep end?_

 _McGucket blinked a couple times and then asked Dipper why he was crying and why they were here. Dipper reminded him of the latter, having no reference as to why being unable to give away a piece of candy had affected the amnesiac so much. Obviously, McGucket was about as clueless regarding the nature of his own melancholy, and he grew a smile._

 _"Ah, the lake! I used to take my boy fishing there, all the time! One time Mr. Pines and I went fishing there as well. Nice place to talk about whatever's been gnawing atchya. Time just stands still out there on the water."_

 _Dipper followed, finding himself jogging just to keep up with the old man. His limp had disappeared along with his sadness. Now he was reminiscing like the two of them were the best of pals._

 _That happiness tapered off into silence, as McGucket again forgot about what it was he was talking about. He remained silent for the rest of the trip, asking if he could rest on the shore of the lake while Dipper interviewed the fishing shop, just thirty yards away._

 _When Dipper looked over his shoulder, he saw an old man, stretched out like a boy, watching the clouds pass by. Entering the shop, he glanced around and found that only he and the man behind the counter occupied the space._

 _A sign hung over the doorway, noted as "Tate's Fishing & Camping supplies." A picture of a wolf giving a thumb's up had been imprinted beside the words. _

_The wall was covered in fishing rods, except, of course, the all behind the desk. That was covered in used license plates. Racks of tacky clothing flanked the entrance, and they added to the musty smell of the place. There was no air conditioning, although the radio behind the desk drowned out the sound of flies collecting around the flickering lights above, by playing some country song about coming home to your baby._

 _Ultimately, Dipper found that the place was reminiscent of the only other "fishing and camping" store which he had ever been to. As a nine-year-old, he had finally badgered his father into taking him camping, and they had visited a shop quite like this one. Of course, due to when his father had scheduled the camping, that weekend had been wet and miserable, and Dipper had never asked again._

 _The man behind the counter was far more interesting than the shop itself. His nearly black hair fell down to his nose, making it difficult for Dipper to get a good look at his eyes. A name tag on his green-gray shirt designated him as the titular "Tate." There was no back room, making this man the sole proprietor and caretaker of the building. A long scar ran down his left cheek, all the way from his ear to the top of his lip. The toothpick between his lips was deposited in the trash bin behind the desk as Dipper stepped up to the counter._

 _"How may I help you?" He asked in his friendliest voice._

 _Dipper could tell that he was trying. He was trying_ a lot _. Deciding that putting the man in a talkative mood was for the best, Dipper bought a novelty snow globe, one which depicted Mount Faith and Lake Mortis instead of any real exotic location._

 _It would be something for Mabel to play with, a nice souvenir when they returned home._

 _"So, what brings you around these parts? I don't believe we've been formally introduced…" Tate asked as he slid the object into a brown paper bag._

 _Tate extended a hand and introduced himself as Dipper shook it. "Tate Gunderson at your service."_

 _Dipper smiled, bringing the bag to his hip as he replied. "Dipper Pines. I'm new in town…relatively speaking."_

 _The man's smile disappeared._

 _"Pines?" His teeth gnashed together. "You wouldn't happen to be related to one_ Stan Pines _, would you?"_

 _Dipper could tell that the man was having trouble speaking in a tone which could be described as "even." Deciding from the look on the man's face that he wouldn't be in the mood for answering any questions, Dipper turned and exited the store, only looking back once._

 _Half-way back to the beach, he heard voices and jogged over to meet the commotion. He dropped onto the sand to find that two men in black suits stood to either side of an extremely sorry looking McGucket._

 _"Excuse me, gentlemen, may I be of some assistance?"_

 _They jerked their stony expressions towards him, eyes concealed by sunglasses. Wires dangled from their ears to some piece of technology on their backs, as though they were constantly being fed info. The taller of the two was also the eldest, probably two or three years older than Dipper's own father judging from his receding hairline and his just below pudgy frame._

 _The hair which he did have, was as black as his suit, not a gray hair to be seen. Like his partner, he had decidedly hawkish features, as if bred for this line of work. His lips were the reddest Dipper had ever seen, and they parted into a smirk, which revealed equally white teeth._

 _A little American flag pin had been embedded into his shirt._

 _"CIA, Special Division." He removed a badge from his shirt pocket and briefly allowed Dipper to inspect it, before returning it to his coat. "We're investigating the cause of the riot which recently occurred in this region."_

 _Dipper was impressed that the government cared at all about last week's destruction, even if they would never guess that the cause of that destruction was a shapeshifting interdimensional fear-eating parasite. But he couldn't help himself from laughing at how they had gone about it. "And you believe that he-" McGucket shifted under the exasperation, as though actually guilty. "-is involved with this cause?"_

 _The younger agent looked ready to throw Dipper to the ground. His superior chuckled. "We have our sources. Now, young man," The man clapped a hand onto McGucket's shoulder and shoved him forward in an almost gentle manner. "What's his name? He wouldn't give it to us."_

 _"His name is Fiddleford McGucket. Or at least, Fiddleford is what my great uncle calls him. My great uncle's name is Stanford Pines, I don't have his phone number but he works at the Mystery Shack."_

 _"This man isn't related to you?" The older of the two asked, writing down the information provided._

 _Dipper took a second to think about it. Lying to these men didn't seem like it would be productive. "He's a friend of the family."_

 _The younger of the two stepped over to McGucket, placing his right hand on the old man's right shoulder. He too was tall, with too white teeth. His lips weren't the strawberry red of his partner but rather the normal pale pink and his features were leaner. He had light golden hair and might have been considered handsome if he did not for his morbid presence._

 _"Do you know any family members of his?" The younger agent was less cordial and definitely less amused. He looked just insulted by Dipper's existence._

 _Dipper shook his head. He was 90% sure that "Tate Gunderson" was the 'Tate' who McGucket had often spoken of as his son. "I don't_ know _any of them, but the guy in that fishing shop is…I think, his son."_

 _McGucket spoke as the younger agent jotted this down, his vision turned to the lapping of the waves. "D-dead. They're all d-dead. It runs in the f-family…being dead."_

 _The agent's and Dipper place their focus on McGucket, waiting for him to continue, or at the very least,_ explain _. But all he had shut up, and all he did was inspect the sand with that 1000-yard stare._

 _The older agent extended a hand, "Agent Gray, this is my partner Agent Lockhart."_

 _Dipper introduced himself and provided a phone number when asked to. He called after them when they started off for their car. "What are you two really here for?"_

 _Agent Gray paused, smirking. "You're pretty sharp for a millennial. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong, though, alright?"_

 _Dipper gave a salute, and Agent Lockhart asked his mentor something. Agent Gray shook his head and called out to Dipper as he climbed into the car. "And keep an eye on that friend of yours. He's got a habit of muttering about things which he probably shouldn't."_

 **[EBS\0/RCT]**

Everything got fuzzy after that moment, and Dipper had to sit down and rest his mind. His skin was hot, he realized, and his clothes were singed.

 _What happened?_

"You need help?"

Dipper looked up from the ground and found a woman standing over her. The bald, obese man was staring at him with from behind a pair of silver goggles, which appeared to be modeled after cardboard three-D glasses.

The man wore a blue tee shirt, with a yellow infinity sign pasted onto the front of it. Dipper noticed, while inspecting the man for weapons, that his mouth was dry and cracking.

More disturbing was that the man grinned at Dipper with a mouth which was missing many of its teeth.

The young investigator jerked into a standing position and shook his head. "I'll…be…fine. In fact," His eyes locked on where blood was pooling against the bandages. "You should probably get yourself looked at."

The man laughed. "Pain isn't the worse thing this world has to offer."

Dipper frowned, finding those words strangely ominous and horribly familiar. He began to back away, his eyes locked on the bald man's. There was something off about the man, not just the smile and the goggles.

There was something outright unnatural.

The man chuckled and said something in a language which Dipper was unfamiliar with. He stepped closer, and sweat collected on his lips. "You don't want to go in that direction Ursi."

Dipper froze. "How-"

"Do I know your real name? Reasons. It's the same reason I know that _you don't belong here._ But don't worry, I'm here to make sure you get back on track. Now...take my hand and-"

Dipper didn't hear the rest of the man's instructions. He turned and ran because he had just realized what was wrong. The man's chest wasn't rising and falling with breath. In fact, the entire world had gone silent in his presence.

He only stopped when he got downhill, and a root broke his stride. He faceplanted and concealed a curse as he pushed himself to a stand. Dirt clung to his forehead as he dashed over a small pit and skid to a halt on the edge of the town square.

His eyes widened.

It was abandoned. There were no cars, no stores which had not been foreclosed. The statue had been defaced beyond reason, as someone had blown off everything above Quentin Trimble's shoulders had been burnt off, while the base of the statue had been covered in graffiti.

Like the town, the statue had become faceless and eerie. Cobblestone had been turned up by unknown forces, and the stench of dead bodies hung in the air. Fog loomed over the entire municipality, creating a labyrinth of collapsing structures. In the distance, he could see smoke rising into the green sky.

The water tower which he had been able to see from his bedroom for every morning since coming here, was gone. The metal legs which once supported it remained, the stump of each scorched black.

As he gaped, and a memory burrowed into his skull. He reeled to the hot pavement, rolling back and forth, his mind wracked with the greatest headache known to man.

 _Everything's fine. Everything is where it is supposed to be. I am where I'm supposed to be. We are-_

 **[0]**

 _"-at where we are supposed to be."_

 _Dipper set down the camera, glancing around the clearing._

 _McGucket nodded, moving to the nearest stump, and sitting down. He played with his toes like a child, as Dipper set up the camera and inspected the trees around them._

 _They had reached the clearing in the forest which he had plotted as the point where all disappearances were exactly the same distance apart from one another. Dipper drew the boundaries of the sandy clearing with a stick and moved to the center of the circle to address the camera. He gave the signal and McGucket flipped on the camera._

 _"Hello, everyone! You may remember that for our last episode, we addressed the rash of disappearances which have taken place in the area surrounding Lake Mortis. Where we are now is actually the geometric point of 21-"_

 _There was a rustling in the bushes nearby, and Dipper gave McGucket a pointed look. The old man picked up the camera and followed Dipper as he stalked towards the sound with one arm raised to protect the camera (and the old man)._

 _"Hello?" He called into the bushes. "Is there someone out there?"_

 _More rustling._

 _Dipper stepped over the slight divot in the earth, and-_

 **[0]**

-nothing.

There was nothing after that. Just blackness.

 _I died. I died…and this place is my own personal hell._

Dipper didn't want to face that. So he ran. He ran between the buildings, searching for life. The diner had been half burnt down, the library was rubble, and the museum was the only place he felt fine entering.

Of course, it was empty. The animatronic George Washington in the corner still jumped to life when Dipper neared it, however, its scratchy voice echoing through the darkened corridors.

The year was 2047 according to the calendar which hung behind the museum desk, although the aged paper and crawling mildew caused Dipper to suspect that it had been two or three years since that calendar had been relevant. A phone had also been placed on that same desk.

His call led to static and an automated message. His cellphone did the exact same, no matter who or where he called. _We regret to inform you that society has collapsed. Press 1 to consider curling up in a ball and whimpering. Press 2 to start looking for bridges to jump off._

There were bodies in the museum too, men, women, and children, all shot to death. Lined up against the wall of the backroom. The men who had committed that atrocity lay in the alley outside, some impaled, while others bled to death as a result of mutilation.

Still queasy from the first batch of corpses, Dipper let his breakfast hit the pavement when he saw the soldiers. They were dressed in U.S. military attire. Their guns had been emptied, the bullets more important than the actual devices.

A bus had crashed into the town hall, and it too was filled with cadavers. From Dipper's single glance inside, he could see that the people inside had died of natural reasons. There were no bullet holes anywhere nearby, let alone blood. And the crash must not have killed them given the state of their bodies.

The big whiteboard in the center room of the town hall said "epidemic precautions." There were no bodies in that room, although someone had been midway through erasing the words when interrupted.

Someone had spray painted a smile over the body of the dead mayor (someone besides Mayor Bantam), whose brains had been blown across the vine-covered window by his own hand. Several others in the building had committed suicide as well, although whether that was to escape being contaminated by whatever disease killed the people inside of the bus (who appeared to have sat back and enjoyed the ride) or whether they considered it better to die by their own hand, or by the military (or whoever had killed that squadron of soldiers) he did not know.

The bank was trashed, money scattered across the floor. It was coated in blood, although this building lacked any bodies to be found. Dipper was haunted by the image of people throwing money up in the air, laughing hysterically as the end of everything they held dear bore down on them. They finally had all they could need.

It was scary enough to make him leave and start off towards The Shack. The Journal had to say something about Time Slips, and he had left it in his special place (beneath a loose shingle atop the roof).

He had to stop twice, his lungs failing him when he needed them most. Finally, he made it and fell to his knees when he did.

The Mystery Shack was gone. It had been burnt to the ground. There was nothing left by the staircase to the basement.

Stan's burnt corpse was huddled over a machine which had been reduced to rubble.

Dipper pressed 1, and curled up in the ashes, digging his fingernails into his scalp and wondering why, for the love of god, why had this happened? Why had he bared witness to this? What had this happened to him?

His fingers twitched, and he refused to permit himself wallow for another second. Mabel was waiting for him, waiting for him to come for his afternoon visit with more roses. Dipper stood, brushed his nose, and turned away from the ash.

 **[0]**

It seemed that the supernatural beasts had fled along with everyone else, given how Dipper noticed the absence of the Fair mansion as he left what had once been the mystery shack.

But with how paranoid the people of this town were, someone must have owned a bunker underneath their actual house. And a bunker might have some books in it if the owner was sentimental for society. And books might include notes from The Author.

There was only one place which would have one, though. The Norwood mansion.

It was a long shot. A _really_ long shot, the kind of thing which his sister would call "trying to get a hole in one from three miles away"; but Dipper had not been given other options.

He found that the gate had been destroyed, the doors busted in. The entire mansion had been ransacked in the most sickening display of "going out of business" sale which humanity had to offer. The chairs, the china, and all the art, looted. Dipper wondered why people became possessive at the last possible moment for material objects to matter.

He didn't dwell on the subject.

Down in the cellar, there was an electric eye and a concrete door, both hidden behind a rack which had once held wine.

 _"WHO ARE YOU?"_ A voice yelled from the other side, its tone distorted by the static of the collapsing system.

Dipper held up his hands to the monitor. "I'm just here to see if you have any books, anything from the library. I don't…I don't have any weapons and I have no reason to fight…just please let me in."

 _"No! Momma told me not to talk to strangers, especially weird ones…and not to let them in."_

Dipper's eyes widened. This was a kid. There was a kid in that bunker, one who was all alone. He swallowed.

"P-Please…I just…just tell me if you have a book in there."  
 _"Yeah, I have a big red one."_

He couldn't believe his ears. "A red one?"

 _"Uh-huh."_

"A-And it has the number three on the front?"

 _"…yeah. How do you know, anyway?"_

"That book used to belong to me! Look please, just let me in!"

 _"Fine…but only for a few minutes."_

The door hissed open, the red light turning green. Dipper found that behind the door lay a room, just about the size of the average person, with white walls covered in holes. _Decontamination._ He surmised, and stepped in.

The door hissed closed behind him and Dipper braced himself as a gas hissed out of the holes. After what felt like hours, the wall in front of him opened and the computer chirped "Guest is clean!"

Dipper stepped inside, unsure of what to expect. He found himself confronted by a little brunette girl, who had a revolver pointed his way, and a stuffed pig under her arm. He stared in bewilderment, trying to understand why she looked so much like his sister had as a small girl.

The girl frowned. "What's your name?"

Dipper took a deep breath. "I'm Dipper."

"That's a weird name…"

Dipper snickered. "It's not as weird as my other name."

She folded her arms, keeping the gun on him. "Why do you have two names?"

Dipper didn't answer, utilizing the moment to instead inspect the bunker. The walls were covered by stack upon stack of canned food. There was a small bath and beside it a package of sixty bottles of water. There were four bunks, all hanging from the wall by chains. The room was lit by a domed bulb embedded into the concrete ceiling.

Then his eyes fell to the stuffed animal which she clutched to her chest.

"Why do you have Waddles?"

The girl frowned. "How do you know the name of my pet?"

He found himself growing angry. "Because that doll belongs to my sister! _Where did you get it_ _?!_ "

She raised the gun when he took an angry step forward. "I didn't take it from no one, honest! My momma gave it to me before she left."

Dipper folded his arms. "Well, then she's the thei-"

He paused, realization dawning on him. He moved his eyes to the picture on the wall. It showed a woman with braces holding a younger version of the same little girl in front of him. To either side of her stood an Asian woman in a lab coat, and a blonde woman with perfect teeth and a perfect nose.

"Pacifica…" He said, staring at the eyepatch which covered the blonde woman's right eye.

"How do you know my name!?" The girl was really angry this time, her face red.

Dipper looked the girl up and down. "Your name… _your name_ is Pacifica?"

She nodded, the revolver not budging. Dipper recognized the gun. It was the one that Stan had given him. The one that Candy had shot The Trickster with.

"Okay, I just…" He choked remembering her phrasing; _before she left…_

"…I just want the book."

She shook her head. "First, tell me why you wanted Waddles and why you knew my name?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm a friend of your mother…"

"You're lying."

"N-no, I'm not…please, she…I don't think she's coming back…you need to come with me."

"No!"

"Please, I-"

She stamped her foot. "NO! Momma made me promise to stay where it's safe. Now, take your stupid book, and leave me alone."

She kicked the book to him and bent to pick it up, his eyes growing hot. _All this time spent protecting your sister…for nothing. She's dead. Everyone else is too. Stellar hero work, Dippy._

He turned the book over and stared at the cover. The book was titled "33 survival tips" and was in fact, a different shade of red than the Author's Journal.

"Well, you got what you wanted, didn't you? Go away! I don't want you here, and you don't belong here anyway!"

Dipper raised his gaze and turned away. "Keep it. You need it more than me."

 **[0]**

He collapsed next to the statue of Quentin Trimble, wondering how he could have done this to himself. How could he have allowed this to happen? That's right, because he was off, trying to quantify, trying to know why so much misery had been created.

"Ursin? Are you ready to get this over with?"

He looked up, wondering how someone so heavy set could sneak up on him. "What do you want?"

"To put you back where you belong."

Dipper stood. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

The bald man raised his wrist, showing off what looked like a watch. Except of course, for the glowing blue crystal which had been jammed into the center of the machine. "By time traveling of course. Duh! Yeesh, and _he_ said that you were smart." The man adjusted something on his "time machine" and stuck his tongue into his cheek. "Here, I'll give you a demonstration."

And with that, he had disappeared right before Dipper's eyes. The teen glanced around, and then found the man right in front of him, holding a stuffed giraffe. "The stuffed animal which your sister left on the bus during the trip to visit relatives, when the two of you were six."

Dipper looked at the giraffe, and then at the man. "Who are you?"  
He shrugged. "No one of consequence. You can call me Blandon."

Dipper blinked. "And why me? There are tons of people who must have fallen through the time slip…why did you choose me?"

"Because I've tried with everyone else. You're my last chance."

"Last chance for what?"

Blandon rolled adjusted his goggles. "Listen, explaining would be a waste of time. Now, do you want to go home or not?" He extended his hand and licked his lips. "You won't be killing anybody. Quite the opposite…I need your help to save someone."

Dipper looked around. "Well, it's not like I have much of a choice."

Blandon nodded, a grin returning to his face. "The others didn't either."

Dipper took a deep breath and took the man's hand.

The world went black.

 **[0]**

"He's waking up, Tate step away from him. He needs room to breathe."

Everything was blurry. There were voices coming toward Dipper, but they too shuffled with one another. All he knew was that there was a lamp next to him and a scratchy wool blanket over his legs.

His eyes opened and he found a man looming over him, with the symbol of a golden hand on his hood. Dipper caught his breath as the man reached down with a five-fingered hand and drew his eyelids closed.

 _"Shhh…rest…It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep."  
_ "Wake up sleepyhead!"

Dipper's eyes popped open, and he found his sister standing beside the bed. His six-year-old sister. That wasn't right; that couldn't be right. Or was it? His life had ceased being a river and instead transformed into an ocean. Everything was happening all at once and forever onward.

"Mabel?"

She grinned. "C'mon little bro, William wants to show us something!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him to a sitting position.

He frowned. "William? We don't know anybody named-"

"Stop talking nonsense, William is getting impatient!"

He held up his hands, stumbling to his feet and finding that his head felt like it was full of cotton. "Alright, alright…I'm coming…"

His sister giggled. "Did William give you sweet dreams?"

He finished rubbing his eyes and smiled. "No. Mabel, you know that I haven't had dreams in-"

Dipper glanced around, disturbed to find that his sister had vanished. "Mabel? Mabel?" He stood, and circled the room.

There wasn't anywhere for her to be hiding, as the room consisted only of the bed he had been sleeping on, a dresser, and the blue and white carpet beneath his feet. The door had not opened and there were no windows. In any case, how could she move without him noticing?

"Mabel?" He looked under the fold-out bed, before hearing a familiar giggle from beyond the door. One turn of the knob, treated him to a long hall, and a view of the sky from the window which stood at the end of the hall.

Another giggle, from the left side of the hallway. Dipper dashed towards it and paused in the doorway. He watched as a boy sat at a kitchen table and giggled, milk dribbling out of his mouth from his breakfast of cold cereal. His bushy hair fell over his eyes, and his thin face reminded Dipper of someone.

Next to him was a pregnant woman, insisting that he not be so messy, in a loving tone. She had raven hair and the most wonderful blue eyes. She was humming happily as she nibbled on some toast.

The man across the table smiled back at her although Dipper could not place where he had seen him before. His gray eyes were turned to the one-year-old who he bobbed in his arms. The man rubbed the baby's chin, causing it to giggle.

The boy was the first one who noticed Dipper. "Daddy, the man you found is awake."

The man smiled, handing the baby to who Dipper assumed was his wife.

"He's not a man, Tate, he's a teenager." The woman correct, before looking up at Dipper. "Or at least, I'm assuming that you are."

Dipper nodded, not really registering the information. He had just realized two very important things. One; He couldn't remember much of anything. Two; someone had placed bandages over his head.

He reached up to touch them, and the man explained. "We uh, me and my son, found you on the beach of the lake. You had a nasty part in your head, so my wife sewed it up and you've been sleeping ever since."  
Dipper nodded. Right. The Lake. That was important, there was something important about the lake, the fishing trip.

"My name's Fiddleford, this is Tate, that's my wife, Isabella and she's holding my other son Archibald."

Dipper blinked. "Dipper. My name is Dipper." It was the only name he could remember.

"Yes, you kept muttering about names, and something about fingers and eyes. You had a fever for three days."

He realized that they were all waiting for him to explain himself and he blinked a couple times. "I don't…remember anything. Umm, I had a sister though…a twin…named Mabel. And I think, I was in…an accident."

Fiddleford smiled. "Oh, well, don't worry, I already told Sheriff Bibbs about you and we put out some posters, so I'm sure someone will call about you soon."

 _They won't._ A voice said. _They won't because they don't exist._ But that voice was far off compared to the rest of the world. Far off, and too cruel to be acknowledged for its true meaning.

"I...I should go to the hospital, r-right? T-to some mental institution?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "The doctor recommended that you stay with us until you've completely ah, adjusted. You were muttering all through your sleep about the strangest things, it would be abhorrent for us to just abandon you."

Dipper stepped back. "I-I can't impose any long..."

Isabella shook his head. "Nonsense, we can't let you stumble out the door without knowing anything but your own name."

Dipper glanced between the two of them, a great warmth in his chest almost bringing tears to his eyes. He found himself at a loss for words and tried to figure out what to do after thanking them both.

Fiddleford placed a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Bella made some toast for you."

Dipper sat down in the seat which they saved for him, and dug in. He had never been so hungry, that at least, he knew.

 **[0]**

His current clothes were stained with ash, so Fiddleford provided some that he could change into. His shoes were also messed up, so Fiddleford provided some new ones. Staring at himself in the mirror, he felt that he should be wearing a cap, and supposed that he must have lost his in whatever accident had caused his head to become so messed up.

After that, it was a trip to the doctor. Fiddleford struck up a conversation about sports on the way there, and Dipper admitted that he had never hit a baseball.

"See, your remembering stuff already. Why haven't you, though? You look like you're what, sixteen? Seventeen?"

Dipper shrugged. "My dad didn't have time to teach me and no one wants a creep on their team."  
"Hey now, you're not a creep. Tell you what, after we talk to Doctor Vass, I'll teach you, alright?"

Dipper frowned. "Really?"

"Of course, Tate's still too young to swing a bat but I used to love playing baseball with my old man."

Dipper smiled. "That would be…nice."

 **[0]**

The doctor posed a dozen questions (apparently the current president was Ronald Reagan, and the year was 1983) and came to the conclusion that Dipper was only suffering from _temporary_ amnesia.

"He should be back to his normal self by the end of the week."

Fiddleford clapped him on the shoulder. "I told you that you would be back to your normal self before you knew it!"

After that, they visited the town's park (the town itself was apparently called Gravity Falls, another name which felt familiar). Dipper hit the ball on his third try and sent it into the bushes. He didn't think he had ever smiled so wide as when he saw the impressed look on Fiddleford's face.

He didn't notice the bald man who was nearby, feeding the birds.

 **[0]**

After dinner, Dipper insisted on doing the dishes, and as Fiddleford received a call from a colleague, Bella asked him about his name.

"I'm not sure why it's my name, I just know that it is."

She frowned, and moved to his side. With a gentle hand, she brushed his hair up and giggled. "Well, there's why! You've got a birthmark."

Dipper raised his eyes, as though he could see his own forehead.

"Your parents must have named you after that."

Dipper knew that the name had not come from his parents, but he decided not to mention it.

Fiddleford kissed his wife and ran off, telling her that his partner had just discovered something incredible.

"What does he do for a living?" Dipper asked as he scrubbed off lasagna residue.

"Oh, Fids double majored in Psychology and Computers. He even designed a game for Tate to play on the one which he made himself. Right now he's working with some physics genius to make 'something big.'"

Dipper nodded. "Oh, he uh, he hasn't told you?"

She gave a weary smile. "Only he understands how it works. Him and that man who he worships. The two of them met at Harvard, and they've been inseparable ever since."

"Is that why you moved here?" Dipper asked staring out the window at the dusk light shimmering off the water.

"Yeah, apparently the uh, 'conditions' here are correct for the machine that they are working on."

Dipper looked up from the last plate in the sink. "You don't…trust his partner?"

She sighed and began placing the dishes in the cabinet. "I'll just put it this way; Fids the smartest person I know, but he makes time for his family. He's not absent minded and he's not obsessed or paranoid like that man. He doesn't think that the government is after him, or that there's 'strange' in the valley. He's just a good man doing something which he believes will be beneficial to the world. Also, his partner isn't umm, all there in the head."

"He's got mental issues."

She glanced not the bathroom, adamant that Tate was still taking his bath. She turned back to Dipper. "The first time I met him, he was a total shut in. He wouldn't talk about anything but work and wouldn't stop scribbling in that book of his."

 _Book?_

"But the next time we met? Total opposite, he was cracking all these morbid jokes and constantly talking in this voice which was…ugh, _different_. Loud and grating, like a cartoon character. Plus, he was referring to everyone by these weird nicknames." She let out a long sigh. "I don't see how Fids could have studied psychology and not see that his partner has a split personality."

Dipper held a hand to his head as he put away the last dish. "I…I think that I need to lie down."

"Oh? Would you like an aspirin?"

"No, thank you…I just need to…sleep…" Dipper responded, finding every word difficult.

 _I told you,_ the voice said. _I told you that this isn't right. You don't belong here._

As he lay down, not bothering to turn out the light, Dipper told that voice to shut up.

 **[0]**

The next day, Fiddleford took Dipper fishing, and the teen remembered reading a book about lake monsters after he told the story of the Gobblewonker. He also remembered the day that his sister had almost drown in the county pool.

The day after that, Fiddleford spent the entire day at work and Dipper helped Bella bake a pie for him. When Dipper asked him, later about the project, Fiddleford jumped into techno-speak, and Dipper was lost almost immediately. Apparently, however, the project involved questioning some of Einstein's theories.

After that, Dipper helped repair Tate's tree house and helped clean up the house. It turned out that Fiddleford was extremely messy when he was focused on work. Dipper asked if he could meet Fiddleford's partner, and got a "we'll see, he's a busy man."

Friday came, and he had stayed at their house almost a week. As he was doing the crossword puzzle, memories of Piedmont came flooding back to him. Fiddleford and Bella were ecstatic that he could remember his address, his house, and his parents.

They decided to celebrate by visiting the Greasy Ladle, a quaint little diner not too far away. As Dipper had a cheese sandwich, Bella had some chowder, and Tate had a burger. Everything was going fine, up until the point that Fiddleford ordered some blueberry pie.

Dipper's eyes widened when he saw Fiddleford bite in and make the same "yummy" sound that he always did when ordering that exact meal from this diner. Everything, all at once, came flooding back to him.

 _Dancing like a puppet, talking to dead people, ripped off by a child in over his head, lifted for the martyrdom by flatlanders, hunted by fear itself. Stepped off the edge of the world and fell back a million miles. Time is a lot like space when you see in four-dimensions._

And now he was lifting up, up, and beyond the world and watching as it turned thousands upon thousands of times. As everything he knew was replaced, the shorelines getting smaller as the arctic pole did. His entire body had become numb, and his bones had begun to ache. Then he was pulled back, watching as the world rotated in reverse as trees died and then were never born. People, coming and going. And something huge, beneath the lake, slumbering all this time.

He rolled over on his side, his mouth foaming as he spoke words which were not his own. The world had become blurry again, and the black hood was standing over him again. He got pulled onto the floor and dragged out onto the sidewalk. Someone was pumping getting breath into his throat.

Dipper's eyes opened and he sat up to find that he was in the back of the car. Tate sat beside him, while McGucket drove. Bella leaned from the passenger seat to look at him.

"Are you feeling better honey? It looked like you were having a stroke."

He didn't respond. He was too busy staring at McGucket, wondering how this all could have happened. How could one man lose so much? How could his mind have been so destroyed?  
A car swerved off a dirt road and answered his question. McGucket hit the brakes, but not fast enough. The seatbelt dug into Dipper's neck, as he was slammed against the seat in front of him, his stomach churning. Tate screamed, and time began to slow down, as it always did during moments of emergency. They were on their side, the car had been turned on its side, and orange flames had grown from the front of the car. They were licking a Tate now, from the carpet of the car.

Dipper unbuckled Tate and opened the right side door. "Here, quick, climb up!" Tate nodded and Dipper lifted him up out of the car, finding that the knot in his stomach was growing with every moment. He moved to the unconscious McGucket, swatting aside the airbag which had saved his life. Unbuckling him, Dipper hoisted him out of the car. He threw the man onto the grass, coughing as the smoke began to billow.

Last, and worst, he turned towards Bella. She had not been sitting forward, and her head had whipped into the passenger side window. The glass had cracked, and blood was spilling across it. In her arms, Archibald was alive and crying. Dipper took a deep breath of fresh air from the sunny day, before turning back to her. He pried the baby from her grip, feeling like vomiting and crying at the same time as he stared at the blood which poured down her face.

"Its okay, Archie…you're gonna be okay…" He climbed out of the car, his sneakers striking the pavement as he moved over to Tate.

McGucket was still unconscious, and his son was tugging at his shirt, begging for him to get up.

"Tate," Dipper bent on one knee. "It's okay. He's fine. Right now you need to take care of your little brother okay? I'm going to go help your mom, but you need to hold your mother."

Tate nodded, taking Archibald, and staring at him with tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked like he wanted to say something to Dipper, but decided against it.

Dipper dashed back over, finding that the flames had now grown in enough intensity to create a signal of smoke in the blue air. Oh, he would give anything for a cellphone at the moment.

He dropped into the car, unlocking Bella's seatbelt, and wondering how on earth he would get a pregnant woman out of the car. McGucket was scrawny by birthright, but she as seven months into labor. He pressed his shoe against the cracked glass of the window shield and grabbed the blanket which she had wrapped him in. Batting the flames which had crept onto the side of it out, before throwing it over Bella and bracing himself.

Two good stomps and the windshield glass shattered, spray across his turned back and Bella's covered body. He threw then lay the blanket against the hood of the car, keenly aware of how hot and difficult to breathe it was becoming inside the car. Then, moving at a painfully slow pace, he slid her body onto the blanket and tucked it around her side. Dragging her out of the wreck, he found that McGucket ran over, speaking a mile a minute as he prayed that she and their child would be alright.

Dipper asked him to help lay her down in the grass, out of range of the car should the gas explode. McGucket nodded, his eyes haunted as they moved one foot at a time, carrying her through the ditch beside the road, before lying her down in the tall grass.

The moment that he had let her down, Dipper saw Blandon. He was standing across the road, an almost bored expression on his face. He gestured for Dipper to approach and walked off into the woods. McGucket had fallen beside his wife, clutching her hand and promising that he would not let her go.

The Sheriff finally arrived, and he radioed for an ambulance. It was only after they had all been taken to the hospital, and Bella had died, that Dipper allowed himself to follow the bald man with goggles.

"Why did you send me here?" He asked, his rage having not yet given into grief.

Blandon moved his hands into his pockets. "I thought you would be able to change it. I thought that you…with your head so messed up already…would wait longer to remember."

Dipper glared. "What are you talking about? My head was fine before I stepped onto the time slip!"

Blandon adjusted his goggles. "…I'll just have to try with someone else."

Dipper grabbed the man's tee shirt, his knuckles inches away from the time traveler's chin. "What do you mean? Huh? WHY HERE? Why did you send me here? So you could torture me? Is that it?"

"It's not-"

"TELL ME YOU BASTARD! TELL ME WHY YOU DID THIS!" Dipper shook the man, saliva landing on the other man's cheek.

Blandon sighed and pushed Dipper off, dusting off his chest. "The reason I have the time machine is to…stop that accident."

Dipper blinked. "I don't…"

Blandon let out another sigh. "It was my job to make sure that McGucket's newest child, Abigail lived. She was going to change history. She was supposed to cure that epidemic which you saw the results of in 2049."

Dipper backed away, hearing some actual regret in the man's voice. "But someone messed with the timeline…someone…someone changed the quantum positions, and it…caused that accident. No matter how many times, I've tried…Abigail McGucket dies and so does Isabella. The universe doesn't want to be what it once was."

The teen fell to the sidewalk, staring at the asphalt. "Am I going to forget all of this? When you take me back to 2016?"

Blandon shook his head. "Your mind adjusts after the first two skips."

Dipper tensed, and then stood up. "Bring me back. I want to go home."

Blandon nodded and extended his hand. Dipper took it with closed eyes and felt everything rush past him.

 **[0]**

All McGucket saw, was Dipper stepping over the divot, and blinking in and out of existence. Then he was gone for a couple more seconds, before he blinked back in, with closed eyes.

Dipper opened them and found the old man staring at him. He took a long breath and then he spoke in a cracking voice. "I am so…so sorry…"

McGucket stared at him in confusion. "S-s-sorry for w-what? You di-didn't do anything."

The teen looked ready to cry. Then he took a deep breath. After a little while of thinking. he opened his mouth and his eyes. "If you could do one thing besides… _this_ …right now…what would it be?"

McGucket's brow wrinkled and then he smiled. "I'd love to see a ball game…it's been so long…"

Dipper smiled. "C'mon, I know where we can see one."

 **[0]**

The bar was crowded and smelly, and full of men who would snap Dipper in half if they wanted to. But it was worth it to see the smile on McGucket's face. The old man was full of trivia, and did nothing but snack on peanuts and root for his home team (he was apparently from Virginia, which explained the accent).

The two of them stayed at that bar until the sun was beginning to go down. Then McGucket stretched and mentioned that it would be his bedtime soon as he headed for the exit. Dipper followed, no longer desiring to know why everyone was afraid of the little old man.

He had been shown what he wanted to know and was content with not asking any more questions for a while. He would rather enjoy the moment.

As they walked home, McGucket asked what Dipper's real name was. Dipper, having done his best to keep said name a secret for years, admitted it.

"Ursin?"

Dipper shrugged. "My parents thought it would be funny."

McGucket rolled his eyes. "People who name their children something because it's 'funny' should be locked up."  
Dipper smirked. "And this is coming from the guy whose parent's named him McGucket?"

By morning, the sobriety of McGucket's mental state had disappeared, and he didn't even seem to remember last night's fun when Dipper mentioned it. That was fine with Dipper. There were something's which you couldn't make a difference in.

He had figured that out, after stumbling into his room and spending the whole night staring at the ceiling and wishing that Mabel finish healing so that he could hug her and know that everything would be alright.

 **[0]**

Mabel fixed her sweater, taking a deep breath and stepping out of the bathroom. Stan was waiting for her, with something behind his back.

"Alright, what's the big surprise Mr. 'you have to get dressed first'?"

He smirked. "Well, I just thought that you could use a little cheering up considering how morbid the last week has been. I'm just glad that Dipper didn't _squeal_ about the surprise…"

She scratched her head, trying to understand why he was grinning so hard at the use of that word.

Resigned to the fact she wouldn't guess it, Stan produced the teacup pig with. "Here's a friend; your brother and McGucket suggested that I offer you something in return for you taking the cashier girl job for me. So figured…you know, since I'm not paying you…this was the least I could do. "

Mabel's eyes almost exploded out of her head. "Oh my god, oh my god, I've wanted a pig since I was six years old!"

"I know you have."

"He's perfect! This is the best gift ever! Oh, my god, I promise that I'll take care of him and clean up after him."

"I know you will."

She jumped Stan with a hug, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Uhh, are you going to take this pig before it pees in my hand or what?"

Mabel picked up the teacup pig with gentle hands and cooed to him as she walked off towards her new post beside the cash register. "You are just the cutest little thing, aren't you? Yes, you are, yes, you are!"

Stan watched her, feeling a strange aching in his chest which he had not in many years.

"First, Corduroy gets all sappy. Now you too? Am I the only one who cares that we are about to make history?"

Stan turned towards McGucket, who was in the process of restoring the snack to its former glory. "I've still got my eye on the ball, you just make sure that you don't let anything slip, okay?"

McGucket smirked. "I'm not the one who's never taken care of children." His smirked died. "Their worms Stan, they wriggle into you and eat up everything if you ever make one little mistake."

"Be quiet."

McGucket turned back to the machine. "You've grown soft, like a piece of fruit when begins to _rot_."

"Shut your trap and finish your work."

McGucket craned his neck, calling after Stan as the man exited the back room. "Sure thing boss, but next time you talk to Fids, could you tell him to quit leaving notes in my house about going fishing with Dipper Pines. It's gotten _old_ really fast."

Stan paused, took a deep breath, and adjusted his tie. Then he walked towards the front of the building, ignoring the spite in his only friend's voice and the madness behind his words. Wendy had agreed to his conditions because she thought that she could stick out for the results. McGucket had lacked a choice in the matter. Of course, his exposure to The Plan had caused his mind to regain his sanity on occasions, and whenever Fiddleford actually got his memory back, he turned into the thing which had run this town for a decade of horror.

McGucket turned back to the machine, cranking all the harder. Those government agents were going to prove spectacularly useful, especially now that _he_ was about to shown up. He wondered how long it would be before Stan figured it out as well. He wondered further if he would get to watch the female twin die in front of the male.

The old man giggled sadistically. Now that would be a sight worth _remembering_.

* * *

 ** _So, no one was deciphering the Atbash codes so from now on I'll just make the messages all backward from now on! I'd rather someone read them then no one. :)_**

 **Episode 7 (this one): Stor ti tahw sa tnatropmi sa ton si emit.**

 **Episode 6: Thguoht I naht raef ot erom evah ew neht, flesti raef si raef ot evah ew lla fi.**

 **Episode 4: Etarteprep ot esoht era ereht sa gnol sa stsixe nis.**

 **Episode 2: Tsinummoc tnaig a saw nagaer dlanor. Dekcirt neeb evah uoy.**

 ** _I just realized that "time" backward is "emit", which is kind of creepy. Anyway, I want to thank you guys. Your reviews always cheer me up when I'm feeling low._**


	10. S1, E8: Descent

_**Another looooong chapter.**_

* * *

 **Episode 8: Descent**

* * *

 _"The descent to the infernal regions is easy enough, but to retrace one's steps, and reach the air above, there's the rub." –Virgil_

 _"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before." –Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

Candy entered The Shack, her heart jumping as she glanced back and forth. She had spent the whole morning trying to figure out if she should tell Mabel about what she had seen on the night of the harvest. Yes, one was not supposed to hide from their only friend, that her friend's uncle and employee were grave robbers. But it had been dark, and that night had been the strangest which Candy had ever experienced.

Wasn't it possible that she had mistaken what she saw?

That was the voice of fear and doubt talking. Cowardice was something which she lived with too much of already. She refused to allow it to keep her from protecting Mabel.

Who, as it happened, had half-collapsed atop the counter, her cheek pressed to the warmed wood.

"Candy…how did you survive out there? With no… _air conditioning_."

Candy had to admit that the town had become intensely hot, very quickly. Worse yet, the air had somehow become dry following weeks of drizzling. Still, she had to smile at how Mabel could turn even mundane things into that worth being dramatic about.

Her smile disappeared when she remembered why she was here to begin with.

"M-Mabel?"

"Yes?" The taller girl sat up, picking up her new pet and stroking him as she held Candy's gaze.

"Umm…I…well, I saw something…and I feel that you should know."

"Okay, what is it?"

Mabel was standing now, expectant and blank faced.

"It is about your uncle…"

"Woah, what about me?" Mr. Pines entered through from the hall.

The old man was apparently too hot to bother with his suit. Instead, he wore some well-worn jeans and a white tee stained by sweat. With his arms exposed, Candy noticed that he was in peak physical condition for someone his age.

"Did your parent's catch me in the fifteen items lane with seventeen items again?"

He smirked, and ruffled Mabel's hair causing the brunette to giggle. Then he turned Candy's way, his face holding that same anticipation which his great niece had exercised, except with all the good nature long gone. Instead, the face said _"You go right ahead, don't be intimidated in the least. Only children are scared of old men after all…"_

Candy gulped. "I n-never mind…I…"

Stan's smile turned genuine. "How are your parent's anyway? I heard that The Suits stopped by yesterday for a chat."

The two agents from the CIA had stopped by yesterday, although since their cleaning lady had not arrived yet, and neither her parents were partial to gossip, Candy struggled to figure out how he knew this. His smile didn't budge at her confusion.

"Th-they did…"

But not to ask questions.

The agents and her parents had been discussing something. Something so important that she had been sent her to study upstairs, out of earshot of their conversation.

"It was not very bad…"

Stan showed his golden teeth as he briefly glanced to a spot on the floor. "Ah, well, you know what they say about the government." He raised his eyes. "It's never as good at protecting people as it's supposed to be, eh?"

Candy swallowed again, but before she could even come up with an excuse for leaving, Stan had turned towards Mabel. "Hey, why don't you and your brother grab your bathing suits? The lake seems like a perfect place to spend this afternoon at."

Mabel raised her eyes. "Really? But it's a work day…"

Stan shrugged. "You've earned it and anything to get your brother out of the house, right?"

Mabel grinned ear to ear, and hugged Stan, before hurrying off and calling out for Dipper. Stan watched her go, and Candy saw her chance to sneak out.

As her hand touched the door, his own gripped it. She became aware that he could crush the chicken bones in her hand with one squeeze of his callous palms. He towered over her, his chin almost two feet above the top of her head.

Candy raised her vision, about to squeak out an apology for trying to bring up what she had seen. She didn't know how he had found out, but she had the feeling that, based on their conversation he knew everything he needed to about everyone.

"I'm not going to hurt you…I just think you're being silly…"

Candy nodded. _That's right. I'm a very, silly, silly girl, and I'll try to be less silly if you let go of my hand and let me walk out of this shop._

Of all the places to die, a tourist attraction seemed to be the worst. She would much rather slip in her own shower, or die in the ocean, in the burning crash of a 747. Anything seemed preferable to getting choked to death, right here, and then never being heard from again.

 _Did you hear the story about the loony girl from Korea who failed her only friend and was murdered by an old man? Me neither, because no one ever cared that she existed, and there aren't funerals if they don't find the body._

"P-p-please!"

He placed a bony finger to her lips. She could smell the beer on it and the stench of something resembling blood.

"Shhhh…I'm not going to hurt you. Like I said, I think it's silly of you to assume that anyone is going to believe a girl who spent four months in an institution after she stalked the most popular girl in town. I _hardly_ think that Mabel is going to take the word of her latest fix-up job over her own flesh and blood."

Candy shook. "F-f-fix-up?"

"Yeah, she's the kind of person who feels better when she has someone to mend. She's like a little girl, she finds birds with broken wings and tends to them until inevitably…they die on her. Then she cries for a little bit…and moves onto the next one. The world has no shortage of dying birds, never has, never will. But that's the kind of person she is, it's what makes her feel better about herself."

He leaned against the door. "Now, me, I'm the kind of person who feels better about himself after he threatens to sue the parents of the little brat whose been lying to his niece. The kind who would be happy to make a deal in which said brat gets locked up for another _eight months_ if she doesn't get this ridiculous idea about a couple old men stealing out of her head."

His eyes loomed closer and gave one message. _Do I make myself clear?_

Candy nodded, still keeping herself as physically far away from him as possible. "No talking. No talking. I promise!"

He grinned and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Great. Now I'm going to drive you, me, Mabel, and Dipper, to the lake. You're going to do the sensible thing and stay tight lipped about this. And you and I will get along just fine. _Ok_?"

Candy cringed at his touch, now sure that he would be able to crush her arm. He smelled of sweat and fresh dirt. He had been digging; probably last night. Last night as it poured and thundered, out there in the dark, he had been holding a shovel and stabbing it into the earth time and time again.

Burying a snitch. That's what she was now, a snitch.

A snitch with a problem speaking English or confidently, and a questionable level of sanity/credibility. She was a criminal's dream witness. And if he wasn't the definition of "criminal", then she was unsure what was.

 **[0]**

Dipper had initially resisted Mabel's urges to "join them."

He had work to do. He had, in fact, a metric ton of work to do.

Since his joyride to the future (and past), he had become keenly aware of how fragile everything around him was. He had to frequently take breaks from research, to wash his face and calm himself down, whenever the image of the Earth spinning beneath him reappeared.

Dipper had not held a positive outlook on life since he was very young. Bullying and teasing had taught him that the majority of people will stand by and watch you suffer, rather than do anything about it.

People were lazy, cruel, and generally unreliable. Those were just the facts of the matter.

After being witness to the death of a pregnant woman and finding the daughter of your dead sister abandoned in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, your view of the world would probably become more nihilistic as well. And that was exactly what had happened to Dipper.

He had become increasingly aware of how everything, from the bathroom wall to the trees outside his window, were decaying. Nothing lasts forever, that he had learned twice over the course of being jerked around between time periods. McGucket's idyllic life had been shattered by either pure chance or (if Blandon was to be believed) universal conspiracy, and Dipper wasn't sure which one of those was worse.

As well, his trip to the future only confirmed his suspicions that society was headed towards a collapse as a result of its wasteful use of resources and because of how unprepared it was for such eventualities. However, he had never before possessed the knowledge of _how_ the world would meet its end.

Blandon had claimed that the future he'd visited was a result of a pandemic of massive proportions. And this piece of information made it so much worse because Dipper had begun spending at least half an hour per day researching super viruses and the likelihood of a plague sprouting up in the next three decades.

The results were about as paranoia nourishing as they possibly could be.

Mabel had been shocked to return from the hospital to find that he had cleaned up their room. He had always been the messy one, consumed by his desire to work and learn, and finding a mess not nearly as distracting as most did.

But now, he had become a panthophobe, the kind of person who washed his hands so intensely that the palms of his hands began to ache. He had bought new clothes, just so that he didn't have to wear the same twice in a row (or thrice like he used to).

Dipper knew that this new form of fixation was purposeless, being a neat freak was going to do zilch in terms of preventing him or Mabel from being infected by a disease which probably did not even exist yet.

Yet, he couldn't help himself. Just yesterday, when Dipper had been at the kitchen table, pouring over notes, he had heard his sister cough and had a damn near heart attack.

Oh, and his sleeping schedule had not improved. His eyes were flanked by dark circles, the result of lying awake, sometimes envisioning all the corpses which he had found in the future, sometimes he would struggle to remember why he had hallucinated about his sister and what he assumed was some mental version of the Author.

Other times, he would wonder what happened to Archibald, and how quickly McGucket must have descended into the madness often brought by such incredible grief and such traumatic incidents. He thought about Abagail McGucket, and we wondered about _why_ , why had all of Blandon's attempts failed. What kind of universe was this, one which decided that the death of an infant was a constant? That the fall of humanity was unavoidable?

It was the kind of universe which would not forgive him if he ceased his current research and spent the day down by the lake. It was the kind of universe which would not just punish those unprepared (better safe than sorry, trust no one); it would _destroy them_.

He was not going to be the next Fiddleford, he was not going to let Mabel be his Bella.

"Dipper…you're scaring me…"

He blinked, and realized that he had zoned out after Mabel had started talking. She was now standing right in front of him, her face ruined with worry.

"I…I… _I need to stay here_. The Journal says that when the weather changes drastically, it's a sign of pre-summoning ceremonies. Gideon is going to summon something super powerful…and I need to be ready." He picked up the open book, Mabel staring at it then at him. Her expression had grown even more pained.

Dipper turned towards the window. "And I suggest that you assist me…"

Mabel stepped closer and he anticipated that she would place a hand on his shoulder. "Dipper…you've been wearing yourself ragged, you need to take a break, or you won't be able to read the words on the pages…"

His hands gripped the windowsill. They had been through this conversation before, hadn't they? No? He hadn't left this room except for the bathroom and to refill his water bottle in how long?

"You need to rest…"

He spun towards her, eyes wide. "I can't sleep Mabel, I've been through this with you before." She grew confused, then hurt by the violence with which he enunciated every word. "Every time I do, I have that same _fucking nightmare_."

He realized that he had never gotten a good look at her until now. She wasn't wearing a sweater, just a dark blue tee. Hadn't she been wearing a sweater?

Dipper had to sit down on his bed to keep from falling unconscious right then and there. His vision sealed to the floor, his lips moving even though his ears were having trouble keeping up with what it was he was saying. "Besides…there's t-too much w-work to do…"

God, he sounded like McGucket, a stammering mess of shattered psyche and disjointed motives.

Mabel gazed at him, two instances of similar behavior to this returning to mind.

The first was at the beginning of summer, when, out of nowhere, he had become convinced that he had to keep secrets from her. Within hours of them being at Gravity Falls, he had found "The Journal", and grown vindictive when she tried to coax him out of reading it. While she had long forgiven him for calling her a "whore" and claiming that she was a spoiled and unappreciative brat, caution told her that if she said one more word, he might snap again. He might turn into that monster which knew exactly where to punch her because he had once been the one who used apply her bandages. Because he was the one who had told her time and again that she wasn't the messed up one; the world was.

The second memory was a much older one, of when they had been ten, and their father had told Dipper that if he got the best score in the final exam of the school year, then he would buy his son a telescope. Dipper had been going through his UFO phase but had always wanted a way to view the stars. Astronomy was one of the few things which they both enjoyed, he for the names and the planets and the constellations, and her for the stars themselves and how beautiful they were.

He had stressed like no ten-year-old should, working long after into the night. His father had not objected, as bedtime meant "Go to your room" in their house, not "it's time to go to sleep." Her mother just wanted them out of the way so that she could pop out a bottle and feel good at one point in the day.

In the end, he had lost the title of "best in the class" to a girl named Sandy Murklins. Dipper had broken down on the front porch when he found this out, asking Mabel not to tell their father, asking her to help him lie. That hadn't lasted long, as he eventually asked her to forgive him for crying. _For crying._

As a thirteen-year-old, he had washed enough cars and mowed enough lawns to buy the telescope which he had always wanted. He hadn't used it very much, however, and Mabel had realized that it had never been once been the thing which he had wanted. He wanted approval, he wanted to relieve the encumbrance of knowing that he was not and would never be good enough.

Her brother had not held a very optimistic outlook on life since he was a small child, yes. And that's because, to him, optimism was unrealistic. When nothing went the way you planned, where you supposed to stay faithful in a better tomorrow and ignore all evidence to the contrary or to arm yourself to the teeth and tell the world which had kicked you while you were down to screw off?

"D-Dipper…I know that this summer has been very…hard on you…"

No response.

"…but I'm afraid that I'm losing you again. Please, just come down to the lake…for an hour. You don't even have to get out of the water, but you…you have to try… _try_ to make friends, to be happy…or I'm afraid that you never will."

Dipper looked up. He forced a smile, and she realized how many times he did that for her by just the look of the smile. "Fine."

 **[0]**

The drive to the lake was uneventful enough, although something was off about Candy. She was not responding to Mabel's chatter, as usual, instead continually glancing towards their whistling driver. Had Stan said something to her? Did he not trust her, to not take advantage of Mabel?

Dipper felt uncomfortable with the idea, considering that this had been his starting opinion of Candy. Of course, she had saved his life, as well as Mabel's.

He had as well, heard Candy's frustration at once being attracted to Pacifica. He considered himself a fairly good judge of character and did not detect an ounce of deceit in Candy's voice. In fact, he had never once heard her sound insincere, although she didn't talk very much so maybe it was easy for her to be honest.

The beach was about as crowded as his fried brain, with half the town turning out. As Dipper expected, they all ignored how quickly the atmosphere had turned from soggy and cold to dry and hot. He walked through the field of lawn chairs, a picnic blanket under his arm as he searched for a spot where there was still some space.

Stan grew weary of his searching and instructed a couple people to move. Weirdly enough, they complied and Mabel scolded her uncle for being rude. Candy found the action disturbing, and Dipper wondered if Stan was somewhat like McGucket. People in town had a weird kind of respect for him.

He spread out the blanket, lying down as soon as he had applied sunscreen. He promised Mabel that he would join her in the water after a little nap. She smiled and nodded, before pulling Candy off to the restrooms.

After a couple winks, he was awoken by a whistle. His eyes opened, and he watched as a balding man stalked over to the lake, screaming at someone. White sunscreen saturated the middle-aged man's eagle beak nose, although it was noticeably lacking from the balding dome of his head. A badge was pinned to his red shirt, and after rubbing his eyes, Dipper was able to read the words. "LIFEGUARD"

He lowered his head back to the blanket and ignored the second whistle and the screaming which followed. The blackness of sleep felt good.

 **[0]**

Nervousness did not describe Candy's state of being.

She did not like being in a shower area, as open as this one. She had never managed to not be conscious of her short, skinny frame. Her nickname at the Gravity Falls Middle School had been "baby girl" for how short and flat chested she was. On her first account of showing how good she was at mathematical equations, they had cornered her after school. One girl had sat on top of her chest, while the others mocked her accent and manner of speaking about equations. They had all laughed at the tears their taunting produced.

Another time, while in preparation for gym class, they had threatened to shave her and make her a "real" baby. This joke had become so common among the school, that during lunch, people would aim their food often for her mouth, contemptuously asking if she wanted to be fed.

The result was that Candy had taken to eating in the corner.

No one had called her "baby girl" since she had returned from The Institution, just as no one had shoved her about, harassed her in the restrooms and during gym class. Rather, she had become the leper. To mention her existence was only to be done in a passing joke, sometimes racist, and sometimes just cruel.

They all acted like she no longer existed. Like the compromise which her parents had made with the Norwood family, was that she would be sent to a facility to be put down, rather than to be entrapped and medicated for two months.

So why didn't she stand up and grab the bathing suit and march to one of the shower stalls? Her existence was no longer a joke, but an inconvenience for them.

Because Mabel was naked and changing right now. What if Candy saw her? What if it happened all over again, and her stupid brain decided to fall in love with her only friend? What if she became the unreliable a narrator which Mr. Pines had claimed Mabel already viewed her as.

 _Just get up, stop being a coward._ Her frustration with herself insisted, tired of sitting here and waiting for Mabel to finish getting dressed.

"Oh yeah, I liked that one…uh huh…yup…"

She turned, watching as Pacifica entered, flanked by two girls, and with a cellphone pressed to her ear. Candy refused to be around when the blonde undressed, and she refused to be subject to any barbs launched by her backup crew.

She grabbed her things and marched past the shower cell which Mabel was using. Then she entered a shower room and crouched, desperate to be out of the lake changing rooms quickly enough to fumble twice in her haste.

The bathing suit was a one piece white one, a bit worn from use. Her parents had bought it for her when she was thirteen, and she still had not found the need to ask them for a new one. That was both humiliating on a cosmic level and made her wonder if her parents actually would buy her a new one, especially given how rarely she went in the water. She had no allowance, and they would not allow her to get a job, as they considered that it would detract from her preparing for college.

"Hey! If you're not using the shower…can you grab a towel for me? I forgot mine." The girl to the right of Candy asked.

Candy gave a sound of compliance, finding something about the girl's voice very familiar. She fixed the right strap of her one piece and stepped out, retrieving a towel from the rack and handing it over the shower curtain.

"Thanks!" The mystery girl called.

Candy turned back towards her bag of stuff. Pacifica was naked, sitting on a bench only ten feet away. Candy averted her eyes to the bag. If she could just focus, then she could grab the bag and dart for the exit. She would wait out in the dry heat for Mabel to finish if she had to.

Anything would be better than this.

She waited until Pacifica passed by, not even looking in her direction and stepping into the shower. Then she bolted her bag, stuffing her well-folded clothes inside and hoping that no one paid her any attention.

"You're that crazy chick, aren't you?"

She looked up and found that the girl with neon-red hair, who had flanked Pacifica was now right in front of her. Her name was Kennedy, a fact which Candy knew that from how popular she had been at the town's high school. She was the sheriff's daughter and accustomed to receiving what she wanted when she wanted it.

She had been one of the first to "initiate" Candy to their little town.

"I…I…" Candy wanted to run, but already Kennedy already had her arm.

"Listen, every second I spend in your presence is another second my social life dies, so I'm not here to chit chat. Pacifica said that you were a math genius, true or false?"

Candy responded with a feeble "T-true", surprised that anyone considered her a genius of anything.

"Then you're going to do my homework for me, and in return, I won't toss you outside, naked. Deal?"

Candy quivered, one hand extended to defend her stomach out of reflex. In their last meeting, the tips of Kennedy's heels made agonizing contact with her stomach

"Yes, yes, I do work. Now please let go! Let go!" Candy begged as she attempted to jerk her arm away, her expression growing more pained with every second.

Kennedy just smiled at how weak Candy was in comparison to her well-toned body. "Wow, you're more fucked up in the head than I thought. First, I have to give you the homework, _you retard_."

"Don't call her that."

Both girl's turned, and Candy found that the girl who had saved her during the Summer Harvest, was the same who she had gotten a towel for. Wearing only the towel, she still managed to be threatening. She was one of the most muscular people who Candy had ever seen. But even more intimidating, was her expression of fury.

She shoved Kennedy aside, and the assaulter was so shocked by the challenge of command, that she turned and strutted off, babbling something to the equivalent of setting her dad on them. The muscular girl watched her leave before she turned back to Candy.

"Sorry, if that blows up in our face later. I'm not good at negotiation."

Candy grabbed her bag. "Th-thank you..."

The girl peered and then smiled. "Oh, don't mention it. Hey, aren't you the girl who those bigots wanted to hurt? Back during the rioting…"

Candy nodded, too ashamed to look up from the changing room tiles. "I have thanked you then, but…I-my friend was in danger-"

"Don't think about it!" The girl removed her bag from her locker, extending a wet hand. "Names Brenda."

Candy stared at the hand and slowly took it. It was as rough and strong as she had expected, and it had more than one scrape trailing across the slightly sunburnt skin. She took a long moment to arrange her thoughts, not wanting to sound like an idiot in front of this girl.

"My name is Jae Hun…but my friends call me Candy."

 **[0]**

Mabel stepped out of the shower only to find that Candy had left without her. That was fine. Maybe she had decided to keep Dipper company.

She picked up her things, beginning to lather her arms and face in sunscreen.

"Hey, Mabel. Do you know where the girl I was with went?"

Mabel turned and immediately averted her eyes. "Pacifica!? Could you put some clothes on, or a towel…or…something?"

The blonde no doubt rolled her eyes. "What are you, seven years old?"

"Just please…"

A sigh. "Fine."

Mabel opened her eyes once the blonde had wrapped herself in a towel. Pacifica addressed her tersely. "Now, if you're done acting like a pre-teen boy, can you tell me where my friend went?"

Mabel shrugged. "I was getting dressed, Candy left before I could finish too…"

Pacifica looked her up and down. "Why are you wearing that?"

Mabel looked down, scrutinizing her pink one piece bathing suit for any seams in the fabric. "Why? What's the matter with it?"

Pacifica gave her another critical look. "Are you trying to make boys think of kiddie pools and second grade when they look at you or do you want to actually attract their attention?"

Mabel blushed. She was about to say that, so far this summer, attracting attention had always ended poorly for both her and those attracted.

But that didn't seem to be the answer which Pacifica wanted.

"I can't wear a bikini Paz, I…I have scars on my stomach. Remember?" She looked towards the webs in the corner of the room.

Pacifica's expression softened, and the regret which flooded her features made Mabel feel a little bit better. The blonde stepped closer and removed a light yellow bikini from her bag.

"Put this on."

"I told you, I can-"

"Just put it on. I have something for your problem."

"B-but it's _your_ bathing suit…" And by the look of it, an expensive one at that.

"I have two. Besides, boys are going to fall head over heels for me, even if I walk around wearing a burlap sack. Now please…just let me make this up to you. The reason you got those scars is because you stopped The Trickster from killing me…so let me make it up to you."

Mabel complied, enchanted by the strength behind those stormy gray eyes, the strength to help. She didn't think she had ever seen Pacifica with that expression before.

Stepping back out of the changing area, she rubbed her arm. She had not looked at the marks since leaving the hospital, and as far as she knew, they were still the dirty brown snakes which drew blood if her nervous fingers picked at them.

Paz was wearing a tee shirt and a pair of dark red shorts. She looked Mabel up and down, not once wincing or giggling. Then she removed a small tub of makeup and unscrewed the top.

"Sit down."

Mabel did as commanded, flinching when Pacifica bent and placed her fingers close to the skin which had almost been punctured enough to release her vital organs. Pacifica dabbed her fingers in the tub, and then began to draw the stuff across Mabel's stomach.

"Oww…" Mabel felt like a child, complaining to the doctor for applying the shot which would help her in the long term.

"Sorry. I'll be done soon." Paz scooped up a ton of the make-up and drew it across the scars.

"There. All done."

Mabel stared at her own belly and blinked in surprise. The dirty blood snakes had disappeared. In their place, was a patch of skin, slightly tanner than the rest of her.

"I commissioned the solution…so it looks more like my skin than it does yours. It won't come off in water, and it'll come off by itself in a little while. Also, sorry for the pain…I…I've gotten used to it by now, it wasn't my intention to be rough."

Mabel raised her head from the patch and her troubled eyes landed on Pacifica's shifted eyes. "Gotten used to it? Why would you be-?"

Pacifica stood. "Never mind. You've got enough problems…I should just-"

Mabel reached up, her hand touching Pacifica's arm. When a look of pain crossed the blonde's perfect face, she jerked her hand away and watched as Pacifica grabbed her bag and sprinted out of the shower house.

Standing, she realized that the blonde had forgotten to pick up her tub of makeup. She slid it into her purse and walked out into the bright sun. The lake lifeguard was screaming at somebody that they had gone out too far. Her eyes scanned the beach, locating her sleeping brother, Candy standing next to a girl who she had never seen before, and her uncle being interrogated by those two agents who Dipper had told her about on his last hospital trip.

She moved to Candy first, asking who the girl she was speaking with was (although with Candy, it went more along the lines of "listening"). Candy's cheeks turned pink and she stepped between them.

"This is Brenda, and Brenda, this is Mabel."

Brenda extended a hand. She was taller than Mabel, considerably beefier, although most of that girth appeared to be muscle. She wore only a long, stained shirt and a pair of blue shorts, lacking shoes or

Mabel could tell that she was being observed as if she could pose a threat to this girl.

"Nice to meet you after everything Candy has said."

Candy blushed deeper, and Mabel noticed how Brenda's eyes lit up. She _liked_ Candy, she had to; Mabel had seen that expression a thousand times before, usually, it was given when girls were watching a guy they liked practice for some sport. Piedmont had been _full_ of those looks, she was quite sure that half the marriages were based on them alone.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Candy coughed. "Sh-she's the thing I wanted to tell you about…she saves my life during Summer Harvest…"

Brenda waved aside the compliment. "Any decent human being carrying a shotgun would have done likewise."

Candy giggled and Mabel asked for details. Brenda decided to tell the story, Candy growing uncomfortable with the re-telling and then smiling when they reached the point in the story where she was rescued. Both shared a knowing glance, and Mabel could feel the thankfulness and protectiveness in their presence.

She smiled. "Well, I'm going to douse myself in the lake, Candy, do you want to join me?"

Candy giggled, glancing back to Brenda. "Actually, I don't find it so hot. Have fun, though right?"

Mabel nodded and gave her friend a wink, before dashing over to Stan. The agents both turned their attention to her, and she wondered why Dipper had not mentioned just how tall they were. Both loomed merely by standing.

Stan smiled. "Hey, sweetheart…umm, these gentlemen and I were just discussing the weather."

The older agent was impressed by Stan's bravado. His companion was not.

She stifled a giggle and addressed the agents. "I didn't mean to be rude, I'll leave if you want to talk to my uncle…"

The older of the agents smirked. "Not at all. We were actually hoping that we might ask you a few questions too."

Stan glowered at the agents.

Mabel blinked. "Oh, uh, sure."

They gestured for her to follow, and she cast one last glance at Stan. He was giving her an encouraging smile, but she could see the strain behind it. He was afraid of these men because they were the ones who made up the rules.

They weren't monsters which could be attacked if they threatened you, they were immutable, irrefutable. They got what they wanted, and based on their demeanor, they weren't picky about the _how._

The agents led her under the canopy of a large tree, which extended over the lake, creating a spot of shade. They just as Dipper had described, the younger of the two seemed aggravated at the notion of working with human beings, while the older wouldn't stop smiling. Whatever it was they were investigating was apparently was hilarious.

Agent Gray took down her number and the number of her parents, before bringing out a clipboard and beginning to ask questions.

"Name?"

"Mabel Pines."

"Age?"

"Fifteen. I'll be sixteen in August…"

"And, if under oath, do you believe your uncle is capable of committing a felony?"

Mabel squirmed. "Umm, no. He's just not that kind of person. What is this about?"

They ignored her. "And how well would you say that you know your uncle on a scale of one to ten."  
Mabel took a deep exhale. "Eight. I mean, he's a little rough, but he…cares about people."

The older man was smiling wider than ever, his partner even perking up. Agent Gray continued with the questions. "And has he ever mentioned anything about a side business of his?"

She shook her head. "No. As far as I know, he's devoted everything to The Mystery Shack."

He met her eye, his own dead ones searching her for dishonesty. "And have you seen any individuals recently, who spend all their time around the lake and have strange mannerisms? Anyone who you don't think actually lives in Gravity Falls?"

She shook her head, and again, asked them what this was all about.

Agent Gray handed her a card. "Call that number if you see anything pertaining to the questions we've asked…or even if you remember some new bit of information."

She stared at the number, only hearing "We'll be in touch" before finding herself alone underneath the tree.

By the time she had returned to their blanket, Dipper was sitting on the beach, his feet in the water. She eased her way into the water, finding it frigid when her toes first made contact with it. He smiled at the face she made at the discomfort.

Then he removed the sunglasses which he had kicked from Stan. "Your scars…"

She sighed, recounting the story. Dipper grew thoughtful, his face changing to the one he wore whenever he was researching something, and (usually) growing more disconcerted by the moment.

"What is it? Should I not have taken it?"

He shook his head. "No. You did the right thing and so did she."

He raised an eye and smiled. "TAG!"

Before she could react he had already darted into the water, her jumping after him and calling about how unfair he was being. With the butterfly stroke, he made it to a small spot of rocks, and rested against them, panting.

She smirked. "You really need to work out more."

He returned her smile. "Really? Because I bet I can swim circles around you."

She crossed her arms. "I'll believe it when I see it."

He stood and pointed to another patch of rocks, this one further out. "Alright, first one to swim there, is faster."

"Wait, all the way out there? Dipper, I don't think that's a-CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!" She bolted towards the island, her brother's turn to call fowl.

She was making a good pace, about twenty feet aware from him, and twenty feet from the island. Her feet kicked up a storm, one so loud that she had trouble hearing his voice. She could tell when he became distressed, however, and paused, turning back towards him in time to see the same dark shape under the water.

Her eyes hardly had time to widen, before something strong grabbed her ankle and tugged her beneath the surface. Without time to hold her breath, she swallowed some of the muddy water, and sputtered, her stomach twisting as she was pulled down, down, further and further into the lake's depths.

The sun became some abstract thing out of reach, the water rushing past her filling the world with darkness. The burning sensation in her lungs caused her struggles to grow all the more frantic, and she rejected the habit to cry out when in trouble. Her foot made contact with something slimy but hard.

Something hissed past her, and it was followed by a terrible roar. The grip on her ankle gave out, and with one last wiggle, she sent herself towards the disappearing sun. Something brushed past her, as her vision grew more and more distorted. She couldn't keep her mouth shut much longer, for how much the impulse was to do otherwise.

The world turned to shadows as she passed out.

 **[0]**

Dipper stumbled up onto the beach of the island, the girl who had saved his sister craning over her and pushing water out of her lungs by applying basic CPR. Her caramel hair was soaked and even at shoulder length, it obscured her face.

She had literally come out of nowhere, diving faster than he thought possible for someone without the correct momentum. Seconds after her descent, she had broken the surface of the water, clutching his unconscious sister and lugging her over to the island which he and Mabel had been competing to reach.

"Is…is there anything I can do?" He asked, feeling guilty for even suggesting the race. He should have known that there would be some type of unpleasant creature lurking in the lake. Why? Why had he encouraged his sister to swim further out?

The girl raised her face. Despite her clear Latino ancestry, she had aqua blue eyes which latched onto him, and she shook her head.

"She will be alright." The girl insisted, before leaning down to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Dipper fell beside his sister, hating the feeling of uselessness which had overcome him as he waited for some small sign that she was still alive. Just when he was about to shake Mabel, her eyes opened. She leaned forward and coughed water (as well as a good amount of phlegm) onto the sand between her legs.

He patted her back, waiting until she had finished before noticing the red which dripped from her ankle and mixed in the lapping water. "Mabel, did you see what-"

She hugged him, her breathing ragged and her voice pained. "I don't want to go back in the lake Dipper…please…"

He rubbed her back, nodding. "Alright, I'll get one of the row boats and you can climb on, okay? Shhh, shhh. It's alright."

Brushing aside some of her hair, he made eye contact with the girl who had saved Mabel. She was staring at the two of them with surprise, but also a soft expression. Dipper made a mental note to, thank her after he got Mabel home.

 **[0]**

As it turned, out, there was no need for him to return to the lake.

After he procured a blanket for Mabel and some water for her hurting throat, he realized that she was still wearing a bikini, so he located her clothes from the car and folded them. He'd just placed them on his sister's lap, watching as she snuggled into Stan's sofa, when he heard a double knock from the front door.

Dipper opened the door and found the girl who had saved Mabel's life, now dressed in a shirt and jeans. He coughed. "Oh, um, hello!" he closed the door, slipping out onto the porch. "I didn't get to thank you for saving her…"

She smiled. "I just wanted to make sure she was alright."  
Dipper was frozen for a moment. She had the smoothest, most alluring voice he had ever heard, one which drowned him in illusions and false interpretations brought on by loneliness and desperation.

He felt a little woozy. "Umm, I…I'm Dipper, her name is Mabel."

"I'm Manda.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Anyway, I...this might sound crazy, but I saw something underneath the lake…something which looked like it was _hunting_ Mabel. Now, if you saw anything, I'd just like to know-"

"It was a monster. One related to cephalopods."

He struggled not to give her a clueless look. "Oh, you…know about this stuff?

She nodded. "I have been tracking its movements upstream."

"…I see."

"It has been moving inland ever since then. I…I have been tracking it."

He frowned, and she swallowed. "You do not react like most do when I tell them that story."

He smiled. "Don't worry. I know the feeling." Shaking the impressed voice in his head, Dipper placed a hand on the railing. "Would you…I mean, I've dealt with the supernatural before…I would be happy to help you kill it."

That amused her. "I'm not going turn away help."

 **[0]**

As a result of her ankle, Mabel was restricted mostly to her bed, a position which would not be too boring, now that she had called Candy over (she needed the details on how things had played out with that "savior" of hers). When Dipper told Mabel that he couldn't spend the day with her, she pouted. When he told her it was because the girl who had saved her, needed his help in tracking a monster, she beamed.

"Dipper's got a girlfriend! Dipper's got a girlfriend!"

Dipper crossed his arms. "Real mature, Mabel."

Stan poked his head into the room. "What's with all the ruckus?"

Mabel was wearing only a tank top as a result of the heat, and Dipper found it interesting that she already trusted the old man enough, that she felt comfortable in this state while in his presence.

"Dipper's going on an investigation…with a _girl_."

Stan gave an impish snigger to match his niece. "Nice. You know, girls really respond well to guys who constantly mutter to themselves and who regularly hang out with people who probably belong in jail."

Dipper ignored them both, marching out the door with a red face, and his eyes focused on the tree line. That is until he got to the bottom of the stairs. Manda was leaning on a motorcycle, wearing a pair of round sunglasses and a red blouse beneath her black leather jacket.

He looked her up and down, trying not to grin with how silly this kind of was.

She smirked. "Your family really cares about your social life, huh?"

Dipper froze for a second, causing her to break into the most wonderful laughter he had ever heard.

He coughed to regain his composure. "Oh, they aren't my family. They're just some escaped mental patients who I've been obligated into living with."

She laughed even harder, and his heart skipped a beat. She thought he was funny. That shouldn't have been important, but it was.

He pushed that reality aside, for one which he understood (vaguely, albeit). "I'm assuming that we go to the lake first?"

She shook her head. "There's someone we need to talk to first. Hop on."

Dipper did so, reluctantly. The motorcycle jerked into motion before he was fully prepared, and gripped her shoulders to prevent himself being launched off.

She found this, funniest of all.

When they stopped in front of the museum, Dipper became incredibly confused. Manda explained as she climbed the steps. "There is a Cipher on one of the exhibits. I don't know what it said, but yesterday, you said that you had a knack for such things."

He puffed up his chest. "Well, I don't mean to brag, but I'm able to read Atbash faster than most people can read normally."

She snorted. "Is that supposed to impress me?"

He shrugged, holding the door open for her. "Hey, some people can run at ten miles an hour. Some people can calculate economic trends based on data. Guys like me only have about two things going for us."

She looked over her shoulder as she entered the building. "And what, pray tell, might be that second thing?"

He leaned forward. "I'm good at thinking on the spot."

She chuckled again. "Apparently not, if that is the best you can come up with."

He shrugged. "I didn't say 'every spot', just some spots."

As she led him to the room she spoke of, his eyes landed on the animatronic George Washington. It had been the one thing which still worked in the future, and just being inside the museum was reminding him of the dead bodies which he had found scattered about the place.

The smell had been so much worse than the actual sight.

Manda had been saying something when she noticed his distant expression. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, drawing all emotion out of his face. "Just reminiscing."

She looked a little worried but shook it off when they reached the room. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him over to the back room. On one knee, she did the equivalent of what he had watched Pacifica do so long ago. She picked the lock to the back room.

He made a mental note to teach himself that skill.

"Hey! We're not supposed to-"

She held a finger to her lips, and he sighed before quieting himself.

The lock gave in, and they crept in, him doing a quick glance about before entering. Manda stalked over to a table, where a very old piece of parchment lay on the table, a magnifying glass hanging over it thanks to a stand.

He read the piece which she pointed out. His eyes surveyed them a couple times, and then he paused.

"What? What does it mean?"

He stood up straight. "It says that the 'one truth' is…in a room with a 'door of water'. And then it starts talking about the seven sins and temperance."

She paced a couple times. "Door of water…door of water…"

There were footfalls in the hall, and Dipper grabbed her hand, pulling her behind the large table. A couple men walked it, one speaking with what resembled an imperial English accent, while the other was all business to him. The first man wore a robe, funnily enough, while the other was dressed in a sharp blue suit. Dipper was unable to see their faces from this angle.

"And you're certain that this is the genuine article?"

"Yes. Know that you've seen it…my organization feels that it is best that this information is burned before anyone comes across it."

"I'm prepared to offer you ten thousand if you will give it to me instead of burning it."

"Heh. You strike a hard bargain, Mr. Norwood…but I _accept._ "

Manda grabbed Dipper's hand and pulled him to the exit. They both snuck out while the older of the two men chuckled smugly, the other handing over the money in _cash_.

"Did you get to read the rest of it?" she asked as they half ran towards the exit.

"No. But if we can figure out where the room it mentioned is, then we should be able to get the rest of the message."

She folded her arms in self-satisfaction.

"Hey! What's that expression mean?"

She shrugged. "Nothing…I just knew you would be useful."

 **[0]**

When Candy first made it to the porch, she could hear Mabel from all the way across the house. She hesitated before touching the door but then knocked.

Yesterday, when she had heard Mabel's screaming, a spike of fear had struck her chest. Being around the brunette might be dangerous, but she was Candy's only reason to fear death. So even if she was too cowardly to tell Mabel about her uncle's activities, then she would still stay close until Mabel no longer wanted/needed her.

It was that or stay home and continuing reviewing over the summer project which she had already perfected to the point that just staring at it made her feel defeated.

 _"It can always be better."_ Her mother had said that, hadn't she? That or her father, they two had become something of a single entity at some point, repeating the same words over and over again. It was not like she could argue against their points, both because of her respect for the sacrifices they had made for her and because of they were always more correct. Logic was the way they viewed everything.

The door opened, and the old man who had helped Mr. Pines steal that body, looked her up and down. "Who might you be?"

Candy frowned. He had seen her multiple times by now, often working on the fridge as Mabel tutored her English in the kitchen, or returning up from the basement, coated in dust. Then again, from the ghost of a look, he was giving her, she didn't think that he was "all there."

She coughed. "I am here for see Mabel. I am a friend. "

He scratched his scalp, and it occurred to her, that he must have been older than the robed people. The individuals who had gone mad that night not so long ago, who had wanted to brand her for how different and messed up she was.

He gave a kindly smile and moved aside, leaning on a mop. "Sh-sure thing…she's up the stairs."

She nodded, noting that this man was completely different from his boss. By the look of him, he couldn't have lied about his intentions, let alone intimidate someone if his life depended on it. He was the sad old neighbor, then one who looks too wrinkled to have once held any kind of strength.

Following the sound of Mabel's singing, Candy climbed the stairs with a growing sense of dread. She didn't think she could be in the girl's presence much longer, holding such a burdening lie.

"CANDY! Come over here!" Mabel gestured with one flicking hand for the shorter girl to gather on her bed, before returning her attention to the clay in front of her.

The clay was sitting on top of a little container to get none of the water used to wet it onto the blankets. Mabel appeared to be forming a horse out of the clay, although Candy realized that it was a zebra when she saw the lines which Mabel drew on the sides of her sculpture. Her hands were coated in the pale red of her material.

Candy noticed that there were a couple other orbs of clay beside the first one and began clutching one when Mabel nudged her head in their direction.

As she began molding the clay, Mabel rubbed her elbow in Candy's side. "So…how did things go with that Brenda, huh?"

Her eyebrows made suggestions which caused Candy to flare with embarrassment and exasperation. "Our conversation ended after you nearly drown. I did not find her after you brought here."

Mabel turned her attention back to the zebra, Candy noticing the rather large bandage around the brunette's right foot as she did so. "Too bad. You were _totally_ about to score."

Candy shoved her playfully in the arm but remained silent as she watched Mabel work. She had never been the creative type, although she found the speed and concentration which Mabel used to be fascinating.

"You should call her." Mabel prodded, still not looking up.

Candy glared at her friend, even though she knew that the glare would go unnoticed. "What if she thinks I am obsessed with her?"

"Oh, cmon. Not everyone is as close-minded as you think. Sometimes taking a chance can pay off."

Candy could not argue with that. She didn't have enough life experience. So instead she folded her arms and tried to concentrate on the clay. Doing so, merely caused her to become more frustrated.

Mabel swung her eyes over to Candy. "Speaking of romance, you know that girl who saved me?"

"I did not get a good look at her."

"Well, it turns out that she is into the supernatural. She and Dipper are out on a hunt for whatever tried to drown me."

Candy frowned. "That is strange."

"Love _is_ strange…"

"No, I mean…no one in this town acknowledges the existence of horrible things…for someone to hunt horrible things seems unlikely."

Mabel shrugged. "Well, she does seem like she traveled from somewhere."

There was knocking on the bedroom door, and they both turned to see Pacifica creeping in. "Ahem…"

The blonde cleared her throat a few times. Mabel finished with the first leg as Pacifica glanced between the two of them, and decided to focus on Mabel.

"I came to see if you were alright."

Mabel grinned. "Pacifica, quick, grab some clay! I bet I can finish before you guys!"

Pacifica shook her head. "I was just going to stop by. I should really get go-"

Candy stood up. "Actually, Mabel, I will call Brenda after all. You two have fun." She gave a thumbs up, not bothering to stick around for the encouraging beam on Mabel's face and the thankful expression on Pacifica's.

As she descended the stairs, she heard the old man, once again answering the door. This time, those government people who had visited her home the day before were on the front porch. They still wore those impeccable suits of theirs, despite that it must be torture underneath all that cotton.

When the older of the two spotted her, he gave her a grin which looked demonic with the sunglasses which protected his eyes from empathy. "Your Hwan and Hyeon Cho's kid, aren't you?"

Candy nodded, wondering why he was so interested in her parents to remember their names. When they had stopped by the other day, the meeting had been short and uneventful. Her mother had shooed her upstairs, claiming that the "adults were talking." However, they had left her house within five minutes.

Now, they were completely ignoring the elderly mechanic. Instead, their attention, the attention which was supposed to be directed towards threats, was focused on her. They impaled her with their gazes, stepping past the old man and cornering her at the base of the stairs.

"You didn't see any shady individuals down by the lake, did you?"

She shook her head, back stepping up the stairs. "I see nothing."

The younger stepped closer. "We heard there was a near drowning, though."

 _Heard from who?_

Candy swallowed. "There was."

"And did you see anyone who could theoretically be responsible?" Asked the older, tilting his head.

She nodded, focused on the gun which she could see clipped to the younger one's shoe. They both exchanged looks, considering this information. "Well, someone stole government property recently and we've tracked them to this area. If you see anyone with a silver belt buckle, I suggest you call this number."

The older shoved a piece of paper into her palms. She didn't consider not gripping it like her life depended on it. The agents engaged in a quick whispered conversation, before (thank god) turning away and heading out the front door.

"Wish your parent's good luck for us. They need all the help they can get for that project of theirs."

Candy felt like fainting.

 **[0]**

Dipper was enchanted by the look of the boat.

It was painted camouflage, with the letters "SBE" imprinted on the side of the boat in cracking paint. A dozen monitors buzzed inside of the captain's area, some displaying sonar, while others read out speed and weather statistics.

Manda had hidden the boat on the other side of an island about twenty feet off shore, and at first, Dipper had been unable to spot it. Then she had removed some of the piled branches, and slid down the hill, standing on the beach and looking back and forth across the speed boat.

Manda asked if he was going to keep gawking or climb aboard.

"You stole this, didn't you?" Dipper asked, knowing that he would receive only one possible answer.

"Yup. You wanna go for a spin?"

Dipper only hesitated out of necessity. "What about the lake creature?"

She shook her head. "It only attacks people one at a time. Never boats."

Dipper wasn't going to argue with someone who clearly knew more about the creature than he did. She helped him aboard, and he stumbled to the other side of the ship. She turned it on, easing into a throttling speed.

Hands working wonders with the wheel, she cruised between the rocks, circling the statue of some Greek emperor which had been chained to a tiny spot of land. Dipper wondered why the people of this town had such strange tastes (they had named the lake after the French word for death, just so that it could so more intimidating, and they could sell more Nessie-knockoff figurines) as she drew them around Lake Mortis's largest island.

This one had an electric fence extending around it, with the words "TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT" imprinted black on a bright orange sign which stood an inch or two in front of the fence. His eyes locked on the strange mansion which leaned out over the island's cliff, violin music emitting from within.

Manda noticed his pensive expression and decided that it would be fun to jerk the boat into movement. The motion sent Dipper to his knees, his head nearly colliding with the metal floor.

She cast a flirty wink his way and he had to grab the railing as she again, circled the statue.

"Where did you learn to drive a boat like this?" He posed, his stomach starting to feel normal as he stumbled towards her.

She shrugged. "My family has always been fishermen. My dad taught every one of his children."

Dipper frowned. "And he knows you're here, now?"

Her expression turned cold. "No."

Realizing that he had struck a nerve, Dipper licked his lips. "I'm sorry, I wasn't judging you. If my parents knew what I've been doing all this time, how close I've come to dying, they would freak out."

 _Or not at all. They haven't given one call, not one letter all summer. They sent us here with almost everything we own. They wanted me and Mabel out of their lives. Hell, maybe they already knew the death rate in this area and picked it hoping that someone or something would take us off of their hands._

She looked up, sensing the untruth in his words. "Any normal parent would freak out and probably sue your uncle while they were at it."

He chuckled. "Yeah. Normal." _They would sue Stan if they ever found the scars on Mabel's stomach, not that they would pay enough attention_

She stared at him and then smiled. "C'mon, let's stop depressing one another and have fun." She gestured for him to move out of the cabin, and he did as requested. "Now climb that rope ladder!"

Again, he shrugged and began to climb the ship's single mast. The mast only existed to hold a long removed flag. When he reached the pinnacle of the rope ladder, she jerked the boat towards the waterfall.

His eyes widened, and he braced for the blast of water. As it turned out, the splash didn't last as long as expected. Instead, the ship splashed through the wall of water, and Manda parked it beside the sandy beach concealed by the waterfall.

She giggled at the sight of him as he slid down the rope ladder. This secret place, this place of their very own, it was free of sound besides the rush of water and the descending sunlight caused blue shadows to dance across the rock wall.

He stared at her, how her skin looked beautiful in this lighting. Dipper reached out and drew a soaked hand across her cheek. She didn't stop him, instead staring at him with the blank expression that people never have in the movies.

Manda stood on her tiptoes, and Dipper leaned down, their lips meeting, then parting, and then reuniting in a brilliant fashion. Dipper's heart wasn't going a mile a minute. Instead, he felt completely calm, at peace with the world and its offerings.

 **[0]**

As it turned out, Pacifica wasn't really "into" sculpting. So instead, for the past hour, she had stared at the actual act, Mabel making what conversation she could while still trying to focus on her work. It had been so long since she had indulged her artistic side, that she found the act extremely cathartic. Her half-focus on her own choice of words made it troublesome to skirt the issue of the cream.

Finally, she asked about the lifeguard and why he hadn't been the one to save her.

"Oh him? That was Mr. Richneck. He was our gym teacher last year. He got fired after he started screaming at a student for entering the supply shack. I was there, he was talking about all kinds of nonsense, a 'mouth that never closes' and 'death is another form of love.' I guess he's just another guy who went crazy because of this town."

Mabel took her eyes off of the screen for a moment. "So, he got work as a lifeguard for the town?"

Pacifica nodded, reaching into the bowl of chips which Mabel had filled with chips before retrieving the clay from her bag. She removed a couple Doritos, swallowing before she spoke.

"Yeah, he's buddy with the mayor, I guess. Anyway, if you swim outside the designated swimming area, then he flips out. But otherwise, yeah. He's pretty negligent in his job."

Mabel reached for a chip and her knuckles grazed Pacifica's. The blonde snapped her hand back, and Mabel became aware of how much of that lotion Pacifica had on her hands. It felt like she was secreting it, the stuff was so thick.

"I…Umm…" she stood up, setting down the three-legged horse. "I should give you back your bikini."

Pacifica shook her head, standing. "No, you keep it."

"But I can't-"

Pacifica reached out and took her hand. "Mabel, I have _sixteen_ bathing suits. You can have this one. Sell it if you want, or give it to someone else, I don't care." She picked up her bag. "Besides…there's always plastic surgery, isn't there?"

Mabel stared at her, a mixture of confusion and sadness reflecting against the blonde's passive, bittersweet expression. Pacifica closed the door behind herself and descended the stairs at a quickened pace. She was intent on leaving the house as soon as she could.

This was a mistake. She still had to convince Dipper to solve the family's "problem", why didn't she just get it over with? He'd be more than willing to deal with supernatural matters? Why was she prolonging this, making it hurt so much more for herself?

As she reached the bottom level, she could hear Jae on the phone, laughing and performing her version of "flirting." Exiting the house, she tensed herself at the thought that until these scars of hers were removed, she would never be able to be affectionate let alone intimate with someone.

Well, there you could plaster over your skin when your parents kicked the bucket and you inherited everything. You could pay someone to talk you and drug you through your trauma. But there were some wounds which could not be healed forever.

 **[0]**

The next day, Dipper spent with Manda on the lake, her driving the boat around the lake. The sonar didn't pick up anything, but they had plenty of fun, trading horrible knock-knock jokes and avoiding the sheriff's attention.

When they got exceptionally bored, Dipper began teaching her how to decipher. When he allowed her to look inside The Journal, she admitted to not understanding a word of it. Eventually, they ceased their search and decided to brainstorm at the Greasy Ladle, where Dipper insisted that Manda give the chicken soup a try.

They planned how they would scale the rocks beneath the waterfall as they ate, Dipper voicing his worries about how quickly a rock climbing expedition might go wrong. She assured him, however, that she was quite good at it and that he should not worry.

Dipper was able to introduce her to Stan, Susan, and McGucket before she had to head home. She pulled him in for one of the kisses which he was slowly getting used to receiving, before taking off on her bike.

He stumbled in that night, whistling something jaunty and entering the attic without more than a "yeah, I had a good day too" in regards to his sister. He opened the attic window, the pained glass cool against his fingertips despite the temperature.

Then he stepped out onto the roof and began mounting the shackles with every footstep. It was still hot and buggy, moths fluttering around the security light which blinked with movement, right beneath him. Dipper reached the mount of the roof, leaning against the weather vane and staring out across the world.

It had been so long since he felt anything resembling this feeling that he had to take a moment and force himself not to cry. He could see the town from here, the three mountains which cornered the valley, the Norwood mansion, and the miles and miles of forest, unharvested and untouched.

But most of all, he could see the lake and the reflection of the revealed cosmos across it. Dipper knew that he would sleep well tonight.

He didn't need a telescope because the stars were already jumping around in his head.

 **[0]**

Mr. Richneck stared out the window.

The girl was circling the lake in that boat of hers, probably thinking to herself about how important she was, how she was worthy of challenging It. He spat at the thought, moving away from the kitchen window.

It had taken a lot of money to own a house like his, one supported upon the body of water which he worshiped. But it had been worth it. The houseboat could be parked in the shade of the many branches which hung over the water from the lake's largest island.

High above, the Idonists were doing their dances in tribute for The Hollow One. He considered their behavior barbaric, but, being the only other individual in town to serve The Sunken Devourer, aside from those debauched tycoons, he found that they needed him, more than he needed them.

He could live his life, fishing on this lake, following the American Dream. But it was their money which allowed his sacrifices to the Hollow One to remain out of the daily paper.

There was no commitment in constant subjection to one's desires, he knew that. That was the difference between humans and animals, humans could decide when to give in. That's why The Hollow One had chosen human beings as his servants, rather than chimpanzees. Because plenty of animals could turn to degeneracy, but none could sow the seeds needed to grow a garden of pleasures.

Those teenagers were both deserving of his wrath, for disgracing the sacred waters with their presence. For daring to challenge the will of the Sunken Devourer with their vengeance and obsession. The girl, arrogant as to her place in the universe, willful enough to believe she could possibly contest the might of his god, was bad enough.

But her companion was so much worse. Never before had Richneck been in the presence of someone so _repressed_. And that was far worse than anything the Idonists were capable of. At least they did some semblance of justice to The Hollow One's will. But the _repressed_ were responsible for the stifling of that will. The boy with the cap was capable of doing such benefit onto his own senses but did not do so.

And why? Because he was arrogant, arrogant enough to impose the boundaries of logic on a planet which neither wanted and nor was restricted by such boundaries.

Mr. Richneck stepped out of his kitchen, and onto the deck of his house. As he masturbated in the warm night air, the sound of the water lapping, entered his mind. It was the closest that one could get to the voice of The Hollow One, entering a moment of exquisite pleasure while listening to the unending natural movement, like the howl of the wind, or the waves against the wall of his ship.

It became clear to him, in his moment of climax, that patience would be required. The Hollow One had something to show the infidels. Indulgence in his rage would have to be delayed, but that would make the act all the more violent and fitful.

 **[0]**

Candy was wearing a tee shirt.

Usually, she wore a turtleneck, both because she considered her arms ugly and because she got cold easier than most people.

But today was different, a result of two very special factors. The first being that today was the hottest which the summer had thus far offered. The second was that, standing just beside her, was Brenda. Brenda; the person who she had first met just a week ago, but who currently made her feel like the most beautiful creature the world had to offer.

No, they were still "friends." But she was sure that after the two of them went spelunking (per Brenda's taste in past times) tunnels she had discovered last fall, then it would seal the deal. She was almost there, almost to a normal life, a normal existence.

Then they had to stop by as she and Brenda walked along the side of the road, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Dipper, riding on a motorcycle with that girl, the one who had saved Mabel. "Hey Candy, is there anywhere in town where you think we can buy mountain climbing equipment?"

She shook her head and found her companion answering for her. "There's a place next to the Mount Faith historical trail. They sell all that kind of stuff."

Dipper smiled. "Thanks!"

And then they had been both gone, the drifting cloud of dust and tracks in the path the only two clues that they had ever been here. It should have been that easy.

Then Brenda asked about who they both were, and Candy realized that she had never introduced her tall crush to Dipper. "He's Mabel's brother. He enjoys looking for hidden things."

Brenda nodded. "And the girl?"

Candy shrugged, playing with the strap of her backpack. "I don't know her name, she saved Mabel from drowning the day we met."

Brenda nodded, crossing her arms. "Well, she has got one sweet ride. Let me tell you, I'd never stop driving if I owned one of those."

Candy smirked, choosing silence as Brenda continued on. "And that jacket? Oh! And that belt buckle-" Candy halted, eyes focused on the ground right before her feet. "-that must have cost a fortune. It looked like real silver."

Candy tensed, the words of the two agents replaying in her mind. Brenda bumped into her and asked if everything was alright.

 _No, no, no! This was supposed to be her day, this was supposed to be her chance._ Candy sat down, one hand massaging her forehead as she tried to figure out what to do next. If she didn't report the girl, then she might be incriminated later. If she _did_ tell the authorities, then Dipper might get dragged into the prosecution.

 _You can't win_.

"Jae! Jae!"

Candy looked up and Brenda wiped a tear from each of her eyes. She sniffed, her throat hurting too much for her to attempt English at the moment. She wanted to pour her heart out, she wanted to explain why today was so important, why she considered this beautiful girl in front of her so important.

But she couldn't. She could only speak in stilted sobs.

"Shh, shh, calm down…and tell me exactly what is wrong so that I can help you."

Brenda was speaking slowly, considerate of the fact that Candy was in no state to puzzle out all the bits which went by too fast for her to fully grasp. But this, this she understood just from the look in her crush's eyes.

 _I am here for you._

 **[0]**

Dipper stood on the edge of the waterfall.

He had no climbing experience, while she, of course, did. She snapped shut the belt around her waist and gave him a smile.

"Lighten up, I'll be fine."  
The plan was that he would lower her to the point where she could dismount and explore the cavern. If there was any more information, she would write it down and bring it up for his translation.

However, at the moment, the last thing he was thinking about was where this information might lead. Instead, he was concerned with the sheer number of horrible possible results. What if he failed to keep the line secure, what if the cavern had a creature within it? What if the equipment was faulty?

She noticed the worry creasing his face and stepped closer. "I'll be fine alright, I've done more dangerous things than this."

And with that, she kissed him and moved to the edge. He watched as she descended, every muscle prepared to drag her back up if something went awry. She would have to swing under the curtain of liquid tons, and land just right on the ledge.

"Oh, please, please, please…" He bit his lip, not answering his phone until the second ring.

"Hello?" He could help but allow annoyance creep into his voice.

 _"Dipper? It's Mabel. Umm, Candy was told…by those two government guys…that they were looking for someone with a silver belt buckle and she told me that Manda has one of those. Does she?"_

Dipper blinked and then shook himself. "I don't know. Why does it matter? She's helping me hunt for the monster which almost _killed_ you."

 _"Dipper, does she have a silver belt buckle?"_

He sighed. "Yes. Yes, she does."

 _"Alright…I…I'm going to call them then."_

"Don't! Those guys have morally gray ambitions at best."

 _"Dipper, you can't fight them…they are_ the CIA _. You need to distance yourself from her, you need to call her in. Then they won't arrest you. Besides, she could be dangerous."_

"Mabel, I'm not going to stab her in the back."

 _"Dipper! Please! You have to be…reasonable right now. How can her intentions be good if she stole from the government?"_

"I've done some pretty shitty things, Mabel. Does that mean that you would turn me in if someone with a badge told you to?"

 _"Dipper, this isn't about you-"_

"No, it's about _me_ acting like a hypocrite to save my hide. Listen, Mabel, I've broken into places, I've harassed people to get their accounts, and I already basically trade drugs to sex-offender for information. I-I look out for you, and me, and anyone who gets caught up in my shit, but if she hasn't hurt anybody then I don't get to make this call!"

She had no response, and worse yet, she had not been there to witness him fail at saving a kind woman and her unborn child. If she had, would they even be having this conversation?

"I am no more worthy than she is to be locked up. Or hell, maybe they'll torture her just for the kicks because that's the kind of thing which men like them enjoy doing. Mabel, those people have no scruples, they don't care about what they do, because they know that it's for the greater good, because they can never be in the wrong!"

 **A lot like you, PineTree.**

Dipper jumped at the voice, dropping his cell phone. It smacked against the rocks, the screen cracking. But that was the least of Dipper's worries.

He glanced back and forth, sweat trickling down the back of his neck. The voice had been clear as day, a smug tongue flicking across perfect teeth. Only, he got the feeling that there were no teeth to be had. Just an eye, just a voice which echoed in the minds of puny earthlings and sent them hurtling off the edge of this cliff.

A voice which echoed through time, through space ( _time is a lot like space when you see in four dimensions_ ), past any of the barriers which were supposed to keep his universe safe from the countless horrors which lay beyond.

He was being watched. He didn't know by whom or from where. But he was being watched. You did not mistake the feeling of someone watching you for anything else.

 _Pine tree? Why had it called him "PineTree" of all things? It was not a word to that voice, it was not the word "pine tree." It was a name, or even stranger a title. But why had he_ immediately _known that the name was referring to him? Why had he_ known _that the words had not meant the same thing to the voice as they would have to the average English speaking individual?_

 _Was it the tone, a simple inference of the facts? Or was the blank spot regarding the name yet familiarity surrounding it, a result of how time travel had messed with his memory?_

There was a tug on the wire. Manda wanted to be lifted back up. Dipper moved to the wire and pulled on it. After a minute of work, she climbed up onto the level ground. He didn't do anything to help as she unlocked her harness.

He gazed dead ahead at her, scared stiff that Mabel was right; Manda really was a criminal. He was panicking that the voice ( **more to existence than tangibility** ) had been correct in its statement; he was _exactly_ like those men.

Most of all he was terrified that he might shove her off and then later report finding her body later at a pay phone of all things. _Insert another quarter to continue losing your morals._

"Are you alright?"

He nodded absently.

"Your phone is broken."

He shook himself up, grabbing the now useless device and stuffing it into his pocket. "I was startled. Wh-what did you find?"

Manda slid her backpack to the ground and unzipped it. She removed a notepad and handed it to him. "There was a bunch of words carved into the stone. They looked really old, so I wrote them down. They're in that same cipher as earlier."

Dipper's eyes grazed over the words. He was unable to focus. The voice was laughing at him, laughing as he wiggled.

He was going mad. He had to be. This was the result of all the pressure, he'd finally cracked. Isn't that what all those magazines and newspapers said? If you don't drink your milk, eat your vitamins, and workout on a daily basis, oh and, spend your time doing something besides immersing yourself in the most morbid aspects of the world, then you will go stark raving mad and pretend that your arms are a seal's flippers.

Dipper took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. It took him seconds to understand the message in its entirety.

"You lied to me." He said, in a voice so quiet and calm that he scared himself ( **just like them** ).

"W-what?"

He stood, dropping the paper to the ground, right next to his broken phone. "You claimed that you had been tracking this creature. But according to this text, this text which, according to you, was written down there, written on the rock by the first traces of Western civilization in this area, the lake holds 'one abomination' which 'has always lain there in wait.' So please, explain to me who is lying here, you or the text?"

She stared at him, at a loss for words and now shaking. His desire to shove her had become one less fueled by paranoia and desperation, and now became the kind of violent action which has more control over you than you ever will have over it.

That was when a hand gripped his shoulder. He turned, to find the lifeguard with a shotgun under one arm. He shoved Dipper into her, and they were both sent toppling off the edge.

 **[0]**

Dipper was surrounded by water.

He should be dead. If the laws of physics were to be believed, then impact with the water while moving at the velocity which he was, should have turned him into a paste. There was also a strange whispering all around him, tugging at his senses and sliding into his skull.

The water had all of a sudden become clear as that of a swimming pool, the mud and vegetation somehow separated from the area. He could see the fish which moved past, ambivalent towards his existence and impossible survival.

In the corner of his eye, he saw something glowing and turned his head towards it. Manda floating in the water, about forty feet away. And she was surrounded by glowing yellow tendrils, each as thick as a telephone wire. They ran along her temple, channeling some energy into her placid vessel of a body.

The whispering increased as Dipper swam towards her, his joints growing weary with every movement. It grew grating, a harsh scraping at his ear drums. What was it trying to do? Why was it doing this?

It was then he realized how he had survived. There was a whirlpool above him, one which had formed just to spit out him and Manda at a slower pace. The monster had created the whirlpool, just as it had cleaned the water so that he got a better look at it. It had no doubt orchestrated the lifeguard's movement.

Whatever its intentions might be, it was not like what he had previously come in contact with.

Something darted beside him, and he tensed up, searching the rocks and crevices which lay beside him. His lungs were hurting already.

He needed to drag her out of reach of that thing. Kicking off a rock, he noticed that the blackness beneath Manda was moving. The expression was used quite a lot, but he swore that time stopped when he grasped what was lurking beneath him.

It was a mouth.

A gigantic maw littered with tree-sized teeth. Even more disconcerting, was how the mouth was pointed directly up, and judging from the massive purple mound of flesh beneath it, the monster was not tilting its skull. It did not have a skull or even a jaw. Its mouth had been built by evolution to face upward, revealing the dark chasm of its throat.

It must have been a couple hundred feet from one side of the mouth to the next, at least. The monster had buried most of itself in the muddy base of the lake, so it was impossible to know how long it actually was.

There were few colors other than blue in the unobscured water, but he could tell that the monster held a green hue to its slimy skin. It lacked eyes or noticeable smell/sound receptors, and he came to the conclusion that, the rumbling sound was that of the monster sending sonic ripples through the water and sensing all the sound touched.

A claw grabbed at the back of his shirt, and Dipper turned to find a dozen creatures hiding just behind a nearby rock. They had massive black eyes, ones which peered over the edge of the boulder with fear.

Their faces would have otherwise those of human beings, if not for the scales and shark-like teeth. Green and blue scales skittered down their stomachs, down to their scrawny legs. They must have each been two feet taller than him each.

Yet, they were terrified of the monster below. Terrified enough to attempt to stop a member of a race completely different from them, from coming in contact with the monster.

Dipper swam faster than he ever had, the rumbling becoming louder but never blocking out the whispering.

This voice was similar to the one which had called him "PineTree", but only in how pervasive it was. It was less smug, and much, much deeper. Instead of mocking his existence, it pushed him towards giving in to some evolutionary leftover.

The other voice had been disturbingly high pitched, like the result of an out of tune radio. This one sounded like the result of giving voice to thunder. Instead of sending fear through him, it filled him with a streak of madness which struggling against felt fruitless.

Both voices came from similar entities, but the first had been like a few tactile words dropped in a media broadcast. An insidious thought planted which would grow to conquer all others and leave its target ripe for the plucking. It had been watching him and coming to conclusions and planning for when it would step on him.

This new voice was like experiencing peer pressure, being shoved from every angle to light the cigarette and bring it to your lips. Except, in this case, the cigarette was the whole wide world, and the one doing the shoving just wanted to see what the world would look like burned.

The whispers finally became recognizable and slid into his brain cells with as much resistance as needles puncturing the stomach membrane. Instantly, that deep, animalistic voice became all he could hear.

 **Thesmellsnotsobadwhenyougetusedtoitburyyourselfinherbecomeaquaintedwiththelandscapedrinkunitlyouburstblooddoesnttastesobadneverunderstandneversojustdiekillthemallwithamalletpaintthewallsredsomeonehastocleanupthismess-**

Dipper found his heart pounding as quickly as the words struck, his eyes wide as he in took the information (if it could be called that). His own thoughts were muzzled by the monster's commands. He was dwarfed from every side, simultaneously disgusted with his body for desiring to fulfill the suggestions but also disgusted with his own refusal to give in. **Quitstallingandbashtheirfuckingbrainsinbashtheminbashherinafteryoubatheinherskinandbecomeaquaintedwiththelandscapemakeherfuckingcrymakethembegfortheirgoddamnfuckinglivesfeastontheirrottingfleshfeelthewormscrawlinginsideyourstomach-**

Dipper dug his fingernails into the skin beneath his bony knees, just himself to keep from drowning under the influence of the never ending violent suggestions. The pain sobered him, while still feeding into the desire to inflict pain. He grabbed Manda's arm, and, with lungs which were being crushed more with every passing second, he darted to the surface. There was light above, light, hope, some escape from the never ending torrent of hideous misdeeds.

As he struggled to swim fast enough, Dipper realized that he didn't want to reach the surface.

He wanted to drown here, listening to the whispers. Listening to the lack of thought, to the _doing_ , to the inhibition. How could there be any greater freedom? How could he live his life ever giving in, stuck inside a cage of defective and hypocritically manipulative rationale?

 **Theyarenevergoingtorespectyousoyoumightaswellcutthemtobitsoneatatimetheyaregoingtodieanywayyourgoingtodieeveryoneisgoingtodietooandwhentheydoyournotgoingtowishthatyouthatyouhadfollowedtherulesmoreyourgoingtowishyouhaddonesomethingwiththattwigbetweenyourlegssoquitthinkingaboutthisandtearopenherthroatgoaheadtheleastsheowesyouforusingyoulikethatstopbeingsuchafuckingpussyandactlikeamanforonceinyourlifeyourgoingtodieanywaymightaswelltakeasmanyoftheseungratefulidiotsdownwithyou-**

He struck the surface, breathing the fresh, afternoon air. Gasping and sputtering, he pulled Manda along with him. She was dead weight, refusing to swim. Why did she have to do that? Why was she making this so much more difficult, draining his sanity with her sudden apathy?

She just stared at the water mournfully, refusing to answer his questions.

As he neared the beach, Dipper began to wonder what the creature had told her. What if she, like him, had been possessed by a will to do the worst things he could think of? What if she would turn on him the second he got to the sand, kicking and screaming?

She was stronger than him, faster too. She was also, apparently smarter than him, since he had allowed her to use him without once considering that she would turn against him.

What if she picked up and rock and bashed his skull in the moment he turned his back on her. What if she pounced on him and raped him right here on the sand, gagging him by throttling his neck?

She would leave him nothing but a waste of flesh, an accumulation of physical and mental scars. That is if she didn't just snap his neck as she orgasmed. What could stop her if she gave in to the whispers? What would stop him if he gave in out of dread that she would?

Neither of them attacked one another.

They hauled themselves out of the water, Manda still smiling and still doing the least possible work that she could. As he lay in the sand panting and struggling not to allow those addictive thoughts back into his head.

The lapping of the waves sounded just like that stream of consciousness rupturing language. It had already scarred him, already taken that illusion of safety from him. That was no creature down was something beyond what human beings were capable of.

Just like the voice, it made him feel minuscule. A puppet dancing on the strings, all the kids laughing and squealing as he did a little jig for them. And who was pulling the strings? Who was the man behind the curtain?

It was no animal, it was nothing so easily explained in terms of mortality and Earth evolution. The closest word he could find to describe it was "deity", but it had seemed even larger than that. Not a ruler of the universe, but a section of it.

An area which would never be consecrated, for there was no divinity in the face of it. Even in myths, gods could be reasoned with, as though they held some human element. There was no reasoning with an organism beyond reason.

There was no human element to a creature which ate human beings in the most mind numbing fashion that Dipper could comprehend.

"My brother drowned himself in this lake."

Dipper turned towards Manda. She staring at the water, still smiling. For a brief moment, he wondered what the tendrils had told her, what it was she was currently seeing.

Then he came to the conclusion that he did not want to know.

"He's the one that this belt buckle belongs to, he's the one who taught me about the supernatural. We lived in a small, south California town…it's one where there are a ton of these huge squids in the ocean nearby. You never see them helpless unless they wash up on shore, cause they are bastards when you go diving."

Dipper swallowed. He wanted away from this girl. An explanation did not matter as much as keeping his sanity.

"He came here, after hearing this call. And when he got to the lake, he just walked into the water…and kept going." She picked up some wet sand, squeezing it. "…heh. He only surfaced when the water had filled his lungs and his heart had quit going 'bum-bum-bum', heheheheh…he was nothing to Gn'aak…just another meal. By the way, that's what it calls itself…well, that's the part of its name which can be pronounced by humans. It told me itself. Anyway, he was another person who realized how pointless logic and creation is…so he gave himself up to Gn'aak."

Dipper stood up. "Be quiet."

"I broke into the base, I stole the boat, sailed along the coast, looking at his notes regarding the Hollow One. He thought he would be able to kill it, impale it on his harpoon. Like Moby Dick, I guess…"

"I said, _be quiet._ "

She looked up. "I was the one who pulled your sister underwater. Gn'aak is not like a lake monster you know of, it doesn't drag people underwater. It told me, it showed me through my brother's eyes. It just consumes people's minds and makes them kill themselves. I heard from the bar that you were the only person in this town who has faced up against monsters and won. I needed to get your attention, your help. And yeah, I'm horrible at decoding or deciphering or whatever you call it. Had I been better…heh, maybe you wouldn't hate me right now." She scratched at the back of her neck. "If it's worth anything, I didn't kiss you because I wanted to manipulate you. I kissed you because I've been very lonely for a very long time…and you had a lonely look in your eye."

He was about to tell her to shut the fuck up but stopped. His throat was all clogged up. Glancing down, he realized that he had lost his shoes in the "escaping madness" bit. He reached into his vest, removing his soaked journal. He shook it out, before placing it back in his jacket.

If only there was some way out of this, if only there was some way that he could forget this week. Forget about why McGucket was so broken, about this fucked up girl, and about the atrocities which the "Gn'aak" had challenged him to commit.

A megaphone blasted across the lake and broke the serenity.

 _"ATTENTION AMANDA REMIREZ! THIS IS THE CIA SPEAKING. WE HAVE THE AREA SURROUNDED. PLEASE, SURRENDER AND YOU WILL EXPIERENCE A MUCH_ FRIENDLIER _FORM OF ARREST."  
_ Manda stood up. "That's my cue to give myself up. Would you like one last kiss lover boy?"

She pointed to her lips and he swallowed dry despite his soaked state. "No? That's fine." She turned away, then stopped and glanced over her shoulder. "Chin up. Gn'aak isn't nearly as bad as what's coming. There are people relying on you PineTree."

Then she broke into a sprint, singing "Glory, Glory Halleluiah" to grab the CIA's attention. Dipper watched as two SWATT members tackled her to the sand. She was still smiling as they brought her to Agent Gray and Agent Lockhart, and, as they shoved her in the back of their truck.

A finger tapped Dipper's shoulder and he turned to feel a fist connect with his nose.

 **[0]**

Mr. Richneck finished tying the infidel's hands to the chair.

The teenager was still dazed, blood dribbling down from his split lip and striking his pant leg. Mr. Richneck had waited until the government bodies had left the area, before assaulting his victim.

He moved in front of the teen, tying his feet to the chair legs and glancing at the boy's legs. They had multiple bruises on them, most likely from striking the rocky side of the cliff. The boy's breathing pattern was still thrown off from his near drowning, and Mr. Richneck felt a sting of envy.

It seemed unfair for this sacrifice to be given a chance to embrace his true nature, but to toss it aside. He would have made a wonderful servant of Gn'aak, were it not for his arrogance. Ah well, killing this child would relieve that envy and frustration.

He picked up his shotgun and aimed it at the boy's legs.

KNOCK-KNOCK. He turned towards the door, hearing a squeaky voice. "Excuse me, but my boat crashed! Could you help me get it back in the water?"

Growling, he shoved the sacrifice into his closet and moved to the door. He opened it and glared out. "I don't-"

A burly girl stepped in front of the one in the sweater, and sent him backward, colliding with the table. His nose bent, blood spurting from his nose and striking the kitchen tiles. The girl in the sweater ran over to the closet, while the strong one grabbed his collar. He growled, grabbing his fallen gun and aiming it at her head.

She ducked to the side, the buckshot colliding with the ceiling and sending plaster to the floor. Mr. Richneck stood, firing at the girl and causing the window to shatter. The girl bull charged him, but he whipped out his shotgun, striking her against the temple and sending her into the table leg. It snapped, and the table collapsed atop her. He marched over to the girl in the sweater, who had just untied the boy's legs.

He aimed his gun at the girl's forehead in time for her to turn her wide eyes towards him.

"You have only provided yourselves as sacrifices by challenging a servant of the Hollow One-"

CLANG!

A skillet collided with his head, and he collapsed. As unconsciousness took hold, he watched a tiny Asian girl rush over to the muscular one. This was the last thing he remembered of the world outside the hospital and prison.

 **[0]**

Candy finished telling the police officer what had happened and waited for him to leave, to return to the living room. Mabel was upstairs with Dipper, while Mr. Pines had allowed them to rest Brenda on the sofa.

Candy fell to her knees next to the bandaged girl. "I am so, so, so sorry…I will understand if you no longer want to be in my presence."

Brenda opened one eye. "What do you mean? So far, whenever you're around, the day gets twice as interesting."

"But you are hurt because you helped me."

Brenda shrugged. "Listen, I'll leave you alone if you want me to…but otherwise…I'm not letting go." She reached over and cupped Candy's hand in her own.

Candy stared at it, then at her, then back to their hands. "I...thank you for understanding."

Brenda giggled. "You still owe me a spelunking trip you know."

Candy nodded. "As soon as you are better."

Before that, however, she had something which she needed to tell her friend.

 **[0]**

Mabel stood over Dipper, having finished stuffing his nostrils with tissue paper. He was staring at the ceiling, completely silent. He had not talked since becoming conscious two hours ago. His eyes were bleary and red from water exposure.

Sighing, she limped out of the room, Stan passing her in the hall. He gave her a look which said "I'll handle this" and she took a large breath.

"Good luck."

He smirked. "No such thing."

As Mabel made it to the railing, she found Candy waiting for her, her attention on her moving hands. Mabel raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter?"

Candy gestured for Mabel to follow her, down the stairs and out onto the back porch. Once they were finally far enough away from prying ears, she leaned forward and spilled the beans. She told Mabel that her uncle and his assistant had been playing Frankenstein, that her uncle had threatened her, that she believed he had malignant intentions. She became so hysteric, that her English became difficult to understand and, at one point, she just fell into speaking Korean.

"Alright, alright…calm down."

Candy did as commanded, waiting for Mabel to puzzle out this information. "Should I tell Dipper when he is better?"

Mabel stared inside. Her uncle had just exited the stairs, he had a complacent smile on his face. Dipper needed him. He needed some stableness in his life, especially after what he had just experienced.

"I'll tell him when the time is right." She said distantly.

Candy nodded, eager to pass this burden of a secret to someone else, though not as eager as she was to make Mabel happy.

"So until then, this is just between you and me, alright?" Mabel asked as she made eye contact.

Again, the girl nodded and decided to return to Brenda. This had been a very stressful day, and she needed to lean on someone. First, though, she hugged Mabel and gave her a hopeful smile.

Mabel did not register this, however. She was far off, thinking about whether or not she would be able to sleep tonight, knowing that her powerfully armed, and grave robbing uncle was downstairs.

But worse yet, that once again, she had fallen for someone's act, come to believe that they loved or even cared about her. If it happened one more time than her last mental breakdown would look positively joyful in comparison to what she might do.

God knows what Dipper might do if he had to deal with one more betrayal.

 **[0]**

Five minutes prior to Mabel arriving at this conclusion, Stan had opened the bedroom door and sat down on Mabel's bed, and nursed his beer. "Listen kid I…I don't have much to say…you still haven't told us…what you found down there. And that's good, somethings…somethings are better left unsaid."

You could hear the buzz of the moths outside the triangular window.

"But that's not important. What's important is how you deal with the stuff you can't talk about."

Dipper sat up. "I miss her Stan."

He frowned and then his expression softened. "Corduroy."

Dipper nodded. "She was the only person I could talk to about how desperate I feel sometimes. She was the only one I could…I could trust with all this shit inside my brain."  
Stan nodded. "I…I once had a friend like that. Someone who I could always trust."

"Was this the same friend who got consumed by his studies in the supernatural?"

Stan stared at the floor. "…no. I'm actually talking about my ex-wife. She was…she always knew what to do. She made me feel alive, the way that nothing but gambling has ever made me feel." He sipped his beer. "But I fucked it up. I messed everything up so much that she didn't want anything to do with me."

Dipper raised his head as he spoke. "I'm sorry. I know what that feels like…I almost fucked up with Mabel enough that she didn't want anything to do with me."

Stan nodded. "That's what happens when you set up your plans. The world spits on them." He stood. "Take a day. Just to do something besides what you have been. Everyone needs a little respite, right?"

Dipper gave the barest hint of a smile. "That sounds…nice. Something…normal…"

Stan punched him lightly in the shoulder. "And hey! At least you know that girl's find you irresistible, right?"

As he moved to the doorway, he whistled "sitting in a tree" causing Dipper's mood to lighten. The teen hopped to his feet and ran into the hall, calling after his uncle as the old man descended the stairs.

"Stan!"

The con man glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Dipper looked like a lost little boy standing there, at the top of the staircase. He swallowed before speaking. "D-do you think Wendy is safe, where she is right now?"

Stan smirked. "I don't think heaven on earth could make that girl unsafe."

 **[0]**

As it happened, Wendy was on the other side of the country, staring at the twilight outside her window. She was sitting on a motel bed, the flower print red and black blankets fitting the dingy blue carpet and yellow wallpaper. The TV blared with static, but she wasn't staring at it.

She was staring at a photo of herself and her brothers, all clustered around her mother. Folding the photo, she slid it into her wallet and breathed in and out. She was here. After so long, she was finally here. Her van was parked outside, and this first level room was only about a hundred yards from the town limits and the sign which read "Glass Beach, New Jersey."

She had remained unsurprised that the words "hometown of Stan Pines" was not written down. This place was probably adamant on forgetting whatever havoc he and his brother had unleashed upon it.

That would not make what she had to do next, any easier.

 **[0]**

Agent Lockhart tread down the hall of Level One. He remained apathetic to the cameras which monitored his movement and the doors to either side of him. This, the ground level (relatively speaking) was for the paperwork and administrative approval required to access all other floors, as well as to create another barrier between them and the "real" world.

When he made it onto the elevator, he was first required to provide his iris for recognition before the device would take him to Level Six. His eyes watched the button for the lowest floor, as they always did.

"The dreaded Level 9, the end of the line!" Isn't that the rhyme which Agent Gray taught him? Agents didn't come back from Level 9, as far as Lockhart knew, no one did.

The little black number whispered for him to press it and give into the madness which he would expose himself to.

His descent brought him past the second floor, where items of which held the "Strange Energy" (the head scientist's choice of words, not his) were cataloged and sent to respective cells of security on the third floor.

On the fourth, were all non-animal organisms.

Some were large (or dangerous) enough to require their own cell. Others looked as innocent as an out of color daisy. The fungus was the most disturbing, given how much it had mutated from its original point (whatever that had been, the science division still didn't know if the changes were a result of mass mutation or of some evolutionary pocket).

He shuddered as he passed the fifth floor, the roaring and screeching of captured beings causing his grip on his gun to tighten. Even Agent Gray winced when passing that level of the facility, and he had been working these cases for over thirty years.

The elevator halted and opened to reveal the sixth level. It was much different than the others, as the others had been well lit, completely clean and full of mostly, research staff.

This level was the opposite.

It was filled with dark, rarely cleaned cells. The only lights provided were by the hanging lamps which formed a row through the hall. Some "specimens" shouted obscenities at him as he passed by their cells. Others curled up at his approach, terrified of bringing any punishment down on themselves.

Others still just stared out of the foot thick glass barrier between them and him. Their chains and strait jackets kept them confined at best, but he knew that they were corpses waiting to happen. They refused to eat, to sleep, the smiling ones. And so, they always wasted away and were replaced with time.

They had time, yes, the organization had been given time if nothing else. Tenuous budgets, yes. But time? They could have all the time in the world if they could answering the gnawing questions which had plagued the government for so long.

If they could retrieve the fabled piece of technology which would change the world.

Agent Lockhart came to a stop beside the cell which belonged to the newest prisoner. He entered to find his superior roaring at a grinning Amanda Ramirez. Blood dribbled down her lips, from her bruised gums and splattered on the steel interrogation table.

That same blood stained the elder agent's fists and his lapel. He was seething, his lungs and heart all having trouble not bursting from duress.

When Lockhart entered, the prisoner giggled.

"Hey buddy, you wanna shoot me and get this over with? We both know that I'm not going to help you or the people you work for."

Agent Gray turned away and exited the cell, Lockhart following him into the hall after one last look towards Amanda. She was sitting, her hands in her lap, as though waiting for the teacher to come back into the classroom.

"Nothing?" He asked, unsure why he had even posed a question.

Gray removed a cigarette and lit it, despite the strict "NO CONTAMINANTS" policy. Like many of the policies which ruled the organization, the rule was ignored when convenient.

"Nothing. She's useless. Fucking worthless." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "My god, I'm going to have to go back to that fucking town…"

Lockhart sighed. "Maybe you should sit this one out…take a couple vacation days."

Agent Gray shook his head. "No. I started this, I'll finish it. We're almost there. Almost done. I can take a vacation to the grandkids when this mess is finished."  
Agent Lockhart got the feeling that it would not be that simple. Especially given how Amanda was staring at his superior like he was a meal. Corpses waiting to happen, that was everyone wasn't it?

Only, he had the hunch that there would be a lot more corpses very soon.

* * *

 ** _Props to anyone who took the time to read through all of Gn'aak's words._**

 **Message: Yad elgnis yreve ti od yeht. Slatrom ot kaeps ot denommus eb ot deen ton od snomed.**

 **"Fun" facts:**

 ** _Gn'aak is inspired by the Island with a face which Dipper and Mabel faced in Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. It is our introduction to the "demons."_**

 ** _Manda is based on about three iterations of my adaptation of Mermando from Deep End. Eventually, I decided it complicated the story to make her anything other than human. So there, that's my excuse for why she isn't just a character I made up._**

 ** _The Organization is heavily influenced by the S.C.P. Foundation and the Southern Reach Trilogy. I recommend you look into both if you have not already._**

 ** _Hwan and Hyeon are both Korean names which, according to the internet, are interchangeable in gender. In other words, Candy's parents are even more of an androgynous blob._**

 ** _I have changed so many character's names by now, for the purposes of keeping this realistic, that I will probably mess up at some point soon, calling someone something they should not be called._**

 **Q & A **

From Returdedphoenixmorph

 _1: Is there martyr symbolism? - The text, "lifted for the martyrdom by flatlanders," is leaving me intrigued about Bill's origins. The martyr symbolism could also tie into characters such as Stan, Wendy, and Robbie. This also leads me into my second question..._

 ** _I was referring to being maltreated by the Brotherhood. "Flatlanders" was just a way (for me) of referring to those who refuse to learn anything new and interpret the world as being built against them.  
_**  
 _2: Am I overanalyzing this?_

 ** _I enjoy it when people look into my work. "Martyrdom" was just my way of referring to the act of crucifying someone, which in modern culture is the result of mob mentality, making someone out to be the scum of the earth (I.E. what the Brotherhood tried to do with Dipper).  
_**  
 _3: How many chapters should we expect?_

 ** _More than twenty, most likely less than thirty._**

 _4: Will there be a hiatus between the chapters that deal with "Gideon Rises" and "Scary-oke?"_

 ** _Yes._**

 _5: Do you have the story fully planned out or are you improvising some of it while you write? - I'm interested in knowing whether or not you had an end game in mind when you first started writing this. I generally have my entire story written out in my head before I start writing and I'm wondering if you function the same way._

 ** _I had the idea for the major story element, two years ago. I have been making everything else as I go along. This is why the character of Robbie started out different than he ended up being. Plans changed as far as different episodes, but the main story, as, what happens and why it happens and what the twist is, are already planned out._**

 _6: What is your favorite episode of the show?_

 ** _Either "Dipper and Mabel vs. The Future" or "Not What He Seems." Both of those have an epic feel to them. Not sure if either will appear in this series, but the episode I am most looking forward to adapting is "Sock Opera."_**

 _From Coldblue:_

 _1) Will we find out more about the apocalyptic future and possible the little girl, Pacifica Pines?_

 ** _Probably not._**

 _2) Are we actually going to read Pacifica Norwood lose her right eye in "Depravity Falls"?_

 ** _Remember, that was a timeline in which Dipper had disappeared in the year 2016. His departure had (did? Will have? Time travel complicates terminology so much) resulted in a lot of changes._**

 _4) Do you plan a secret or magical part of Gravity Falls forests, with magical creatures, in "Depravity Falls"?_

 ** _Not sure I understand this question, but there are places where the magic creatures can communicate amongst one another (not the Fey, because they are magic royalty)._**

 _5) Is there even a happy ending in "Depravity Falls" or should we expect mixed feelings?_

 ** _I have been doing happy endings for quite some time. I am still unsure as to how this story will end, but I know that mixed feelings will exist at the least._**

 **Suggestions** _:_

 _1) God that got me going. Pacifica with a lost eye, Candy I think a scientist, and I don't know about Mable Pines being Pacifica daughter. I mean, Mable is Dipper twin. Maybe little Pacifica Pines is actually Dipper kid for all we know. I hope at some point we can read a little more about this character. Maybe shed more light or just leave us in more mysteries. I kind of hope there just ONE more Time Slip/Traveler episode or the Apocalypse where Time and Space have no meaning._

 ** _There will be one more time travel episode (although the subject is linked to the rest of the story)._**

 _4) That would be interesting, but darker. That would be interesting if there was DARK or Forbidden Forest within Gravity Falls and have basically the Brothers Grimm style of fairy tale creatures. You know? Killer Unicorns, Witch's that curse or kill wonders for personal gain, or more Ghosts/Zombies actually being alive in the forest. Just an idea. I figure that would be later in five or so chapters._

 ** _The Fey are already based off of what they originally were in European legends. I'll think about introducing more Old World legends._**


	11. S1, E9: SnowFlakes and BrokenHearts

**Episode 9: SnowFlakes and BrokenHearts**

* * *

 _"The snow itself is lonely or, if you prefer, self-sufficient. There is no other time when the whole world seems composed of one thing and one thing only." –Joseph Wood Krutch_

 _"Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart." –Anne Frank_

 _"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."–Ernest Hemingway_

* * *

Wendy stared at the calm sea as she walked the streets of Glass Beach. The early morning air made the journey more comfortable than it should have been, considering what she trying to learn. The town didn't have much to it, just a couple restaurants and shops along Main Street.

She passed a theater which appeared to have gone unused for the past twenty years at least. No wonder Stan had grown so ambitious, he had grown up in a dump. The town was only made to look larger by how the houses were listed out, each with their own view of the water.

When she spotted a pudgy old man gardening, she broke into a run, stopping at the fence. "Sir, may I speak with you a moment?"

He looked up and grunted. "What do you want? I don't give to street kids." He spat a little at the word.

"I don't want any money I just want to know if um, Carla McCorkle, still lives in this town?"

The man sat up. "This is about the Pines brothers, isn't it?"

Wendy blinked. "It's about Stan Pines…ummm, he has a brother?"

The man stabbed his trowel into the wet earth. "Yeah, how could you not know that if you're doing research on him?"

Wendy coughed. "He didn't mention it when I interviewed him."

"Well, doesn't surprise me considering what Leland did to him."

Wendy leaned forward. "What did he do?"

The man stood. "Leland mutilated his fingers and stole all his cash. That was the last anyone saw of Leland." He moved to his porch. "It's weird, I always figured that Stanford would be the one to do something like that. He was always talking to himself and always about the most morbid of subjects. Heh, but I guess Stanford is the only one of us whoever left this crummy town with better things up the road."

Wendy took a moment to soak up this information. "Did they ever catch Leland?"

"Hell if I know. Their father died shortly after and his wife moved away."

Wendy nodded. "But about my original question…"

The man pointed towards a tiny white house up the hill. "Just like I said, only of us to leave this town with better things ahead. I don't think Carla could leave if she wanted to."

Wendy thanked him for the information and turned her stroll into a light jog. The trail was finally getting warm.

 **[0]**

Robbie stared at the place he had hoped to never again enter.

 _Home_.

It was full of long sessions of tag in the backyard, of hopping the fence and running through the gravestones which adorned the hill. It was just as much rich with late sessions on the back porch with the rod, and waking up in the middle of the night to watch your parents walk out amidst the graves to help the sheriff with what his father referred to as "nameless."

He shuddered and opened the white picket gate which fit the rest of the perfect little house. Flowers had been arranged, all separate like his mother always wanted. No mixing, no sir; that would just cause confusion. Robbie was sure that had Cathy not died, he would have run off with her the moment he learned how to drive.

It was that or allow her to die in this town, another victim of the bigotry brainwash campaign.

He winced before knocking on the door, finding that it had not been repainted since he left two years ago despite the chipping paint. The chit-chat inside was paused, and he heard the click-clack of his mother's heels against the marble door area.

She opened the door a crack and looked taken aback. "Robert? I…We heard that you-!"

"I don't care. I just need to get something from my room."

She became hurt. He didn't care. She couldn't act like his sister was just another body committed to the ground in the dead of night, she couldn't turn Cathy into nothing but a sad memory and expect his love.

Racism bordering on xenophobia? Yeah, he could deal with that. Utter banality? Sure. The illegal concealment of unidentified corpses for the purpose of conspiracy? Robbie had broken more laws and social norms than he could count on his one hand. None of that mattered.

But she did, and they had pretended she didn't so that they could go on with their petty lives.

Realizing that he wouldn't apologize, she moved and allowed him inside. He struggled not to spit on the "Bless this house" sign posted to the wall. The only thing "blessed" about this house, was that the Devil hadn't found it yet.

 _Well, Sweetdreams is coming, isn't he?_

Robbie shook himself, unsure as to where the voice had come from. The two women who his mother had been discussing the weather with, Mrs. Luiz and Mrs. June (he could still remember them telling him that you shouldn't laugh in church) stared at him like he was a ghost.

He smirked and climbed the red-carpeted stairs. Pictures littered the walls, all of them depicting his father and mother smiling and holding hands at various, boring locales. There was one which showed the congregation, and Father Nathaniel leered at him from the photo.

 _You can't escape the eye of God, son._

No, but any god who took Cathy was worthy of watching any chaos which Robbie might be able to inflict upon the people of this world.

When Robbie got to the second floor, he paused. Cathy's room was right across from him, the entrance blocked by a file cabinet. It was no doubt completely untouched, the dollhouse coated in dust, just as the windows were.

But what truly drew his attention, was his own room. It had been stripped bare, nothing left. He wondered how much time they spent, loading his things into their Cadillac and bringing them to the garbage dump.

He realized that he had become just like Cathy. They had erased him from their lives. Mr. and Mrs. Valentino didn't have any children; you must be misinformed because they NEVER had a child.

He had become one of the faceless.

Robbie knelt beside the board, removing the Swiss army he had bought with what little money he had left after the chorus of doctor's bills. Stabbing the blade into the crack between the boards, Robbie popped up the board and stared into the eyes of the beast.

The gun which he had almost used on himself after Cathy's funeral. After the world had turned against him.

Then he had met Wendy in the graveyard. She had saved him. She had stopped him from using the rather easily acquired gun using his father's credit card.

And now, in her absence, he was finally going to use it.

He wouldn't spend his days in jail. No, if Dipper was to die and they tracked it to him, then Robbie knew that the five other bullets in the barrel would prove just as useful as the first.

He placed the gun in his pocket and stood.

Bless this house indeed, it was about to have another dead child on its hands, or at the least, an imprisoned one.

 **[0]**

Stan had told Dipper to take a day in which he would not do anything but relax.

After about half an hour of flipping through the local channels, Dipper decided that he would not be able to relax while inside.

So he wished Mabel good luck with her latest art project and headed out the back door.

The crunch of needles beneath his feet was soothing, just as the warm breeze against the back of his neck made him smile. Forests of pine trees filled the few nostalgic memories which he held. The woods had always been an escape, even when he and Mabel were too young to know what they were escaping from.

Playgrounds had been their castles and forests had been the enchanted lands in which their imaginations (mostly Mabel's, but he was fine with that) to run wild. The bridges had trolls under them and the trees all had elves hiding somewhere above amidst the branches.

Of course now, there might be actual trolls and elves in these woods.

He paused beside a redwood, leaning against it, and listening to the bird song. The sound of running water brought him to a small embankment and a stone bridge which was halfway to collapsing. He kneeled on the cluster of orange lilies, reaching into the stream and splashing some water onto his face.

It reminded him of the time he had encountered a gray, skinny being with large eyes and no mouth, in his first week in this valley. The encounter had following him washing the tears from his face after Mabel had resisted his attempts to save her from the Fey.

Kneeling there, with the sun drying his face, it occurred to him that all creatures of this world, magic or no, would need water. Rivers like this must be places where the supernatural occasionally gathered to lap up the water.

Of course, creatures like the Fey needed an adequate opportunity to hide, else they might be disturbed by human beings. Maybe not hunted, or discovered, but creatures of their kind might count the simple fact of being noticed as negative. In these woods, you could probably hide anything.

He then had to wonder, had the creatures which inhabited this valley migrated towards it following the modernization of Europe (as faeries were a European invention)? More important than water, did the valley hold enough nooks and crannies to hide a whole race? He almost felt bad for them, despite how loathsome their view of human beings was.

But the world had once belonged to them, it had once been nothing but trees for as far as the eye could see. Nowadays, the world had fewer nooks and crannies with every year. Would the Fey even have anywhere to hide in a couple decades?

Well, if the town atrophied at a faster rate than it currently was (he still didn't understand why the town had not turned into a ghost one by now), then the Fair Mansion might be here long after the water tower and train tracks had collapsed with rust.

Sighing with the realization that he would probably never come back to this place after this summer, and never receive those answers, he stood. Maybe it was a good thing that he would never come back, considering what he had faced yesterday. He still had a split lip from being assaulted by Richneck, although his encounter with the creature under the lake had caused him far more trauma.

Something shiny buzzed past his ear and grabbed his attention. It had six, silvery reflective wings which created a rainbow when the morning light struck it. Dipper removed his notebook, bending to one knee and holding his breath as he observed its movements.

It was a pixie; a tiny humanoid, its shimmering wings clumping together as its proboscis descended into the flower. Seconds ticked by as the creature lapped up the nectar and Dipper tried to memorize the details of it so that he could write it down later. The creature had pale blue skin and four arms rather than any legs. He wondered if it could comprehend him, if he was the Gn'aak of this situation, too fascinated by the ant to crush it between his fingers.

When the pixie finished, it turned his way, its compact eyes monitoring him. It hopped onto the leaf of the flower, and Dipper extended a hand. It stared at his palm, before hopping on. The pixie's prickly tail drew across his skin and caused him to wince.

"What are you looking at?"

He looked up and found Pacifica staring at him. The creature twitched, and he raised a finger to his lips. She frowned and approached. She was dressed in golf wear, with a half-cap.

Sitting down beside him, she tensed when she saw the creature. It looked up at her and its proboscis extended a little, before rolling back up. Then, the pixie buzzed into the air and disappeared into the canopy above. Dipper realized, staring up at the sky, that it was afternoon already.

"What was that thing?"

Dipper grew annoyed. "Don't you ever listen to anything besides the sound of your own voice?"

She looked about to punch him. He remained unimpressed.

Taking a deep breath she folded her arms. "Why didn't you warn me about that thing?"

He frowned. "Why would I? It wasn't dangerous."

"And how do you know that?"

Dipper raised The Journal. "Secrets of the universe."

She rolled her eyes. "I apologize for trying to make sure you hadn't found some weird mystical thing and become obsessed with it."  
Dipper stretched his arms. "Why would you care anyhow?"

She glanced back at him. "You know, I'm not heartless."

"I know." He sat back down. "I've just been going through a lot of _shit_ recently, and I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone else's."  
Her expression turned confused. "Well, you can't complain. You do it to yourself."

Dipper drank from his water bottle and met her gaze. "That so?"

She stared at her reflection in the water. "I don't mean…I'm not saying that you deserve it…but you do go looking for trouble."

He offered the water, noting how sweat soaked her skin was. "If I don't learn about this stuff, how can I expect to stop it? The Faeries, Gideon, The Shapeshifter…I had no control over those. They would have come after me and Mabel no matter what I did."

She accepted the water, and he made a mental note to boil the cap later so that he did not get any contaminants which she may have left on the rim.

"I know…but you could stay home all day, reading that book. Instead, you go out, looking for stuff that no one understands. It's like you revel in the unnatural."

He shrugged. "I've never been good at the natural. I'm not like you, I can't make people like me, I can't pretend to be something I'm not."  
Her brow furrowed. "And what are you?"

He took the bottle back gently, slipping it back into his book bag. "I'm a weirdo."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh cmon, Mabel is more unusual than you-"

He brought a hand to his forehead and parted his hair. Her eyes widened when she saw his birthmark.

"…your name."

He rolled his head forward and stared at the water as she sat down beside him. "I belong here, even if this place is harsh to me…it's kind of all I got going for me…"

Pacifica looked to her lap. "You're not that bad. Standoffish, but…" She exhaled. "Remember in the library, when you were freaking out?"

He chuckled. "Right. I never apologized for that…"

"Don't."

He was almost taken aback by the boldness in her voice.

"You're honest. More honest than some people can ever hope to be. And you've got to stick to your guns, right?"

He smirked. "I guess you do…"

"I have song…Umm, I'd like you to hear…do you mind?"

He shook his head.

She removed her MP3 player and offered him one ear bud. He placed them in his ears and she pressed play after placing the other in her ear. A familiar tune came on, surprising him. It was Frank Sinatra, crooning over how "That's Life."

He looked over to her and found her bobbing her head, eyes closed.

 _"Some people get their kicks…Stomping on a dream…But I don't let it get me down…'Cause this fine old world it keeps spinnin' around…"_

He began to sway his own head, wondering where she had first heard this song. He remembered what she had said in the library, how she had been unable to fail her parents. It seemed wrong for someone as free-willed as her to be controlled.

 _"…And I can't deny it…Many times I thought of cuttin' out…"_

 **Are you really gonna fall for this all over again? She's going to use you, PineTree. Just like everybody does.**

 _"…but my heart won't buy it…"_

He swallowed and realized that his throat had grown clogged. He removed the ear bud and stood up, finding the need to catch his breath.

 _Be quiet, be quiet, oh please just be quiet._ The voice didn't respond. Dipper got the feeling that it was silent only to humor him.

Pacifica watched him turn away, confused as to what had just transpired.

"Are you alright?"

 _"I'm gonna roll myself up in a big ball and die…"_

He tugged out the ear bud. "I'm fine, I just realized that I have something to do."

She frowned but didn't stop him from throwing his book bag over his shoulder and turning back the way he came.

"Wait!"

He stopped and turned with a swallow.

She moved to his side, handing him The Journal. "You forgot your secrets of the universe, Mr. Weirdo."

He managed a smile. "Thanks. And thanks for cheering me up."

She shrugged. "I was having a shitty day anyway."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I'm sorry for doing my best to make it shittier. I recently had by brain invaded by a being of unspeakable power…so…yeah, I've got a feeling that shitty days are that's ahead."

She frowned. "Wait, so something started talking inside your brain?"

He nodded.

"So…a demon?"

His eyes widened. "Oh, I uh, I don't know. Why? Do you know something about demons?"

"I just read a little about them. They're supposed to do that…you know…put their thoughts into yours so that they can control you."

He gave her a decisive look. "Where did you learn this?"

"There's a book back at my house, which talks about this kind of thing."

He stepped closer. "Would you mind if I borrowed it?"

"Not at all. I never use it anyway, I'll bring it by tonight."

 **[0]**

"Excuse me, are you Carla McCorkle?" Wendy asked the sixty-something woman who reeked of menthol cigarettes.

She was wearing a pink bathrobe and a couple white slippers. Her face held a youth to it which had long gone from her eyes. There was still some chestnut to her mostly light gray hair.

While her hair might one day turn white, her teeth were stained yellow. There was a scar running down her right cheek.

Age had not made her frail but hardened.

The woman gave a nod and then let out a long sigh. "That's me. You here to badger me about the Pines twins like all the big city?"

Wendy averted her eyes. "Well, yes, but not because I'm part of any newspaper. I just want to know the truth. I used to work for Stanford Pines…"

The woman exhaled and sat down at her kitchen table. "Wipe your feet on the mat and close the door on your way in. This house is drafty enough."

Wendy did as requested, and moved to the opposite side of the table. "Umm, you were married to Stanford, correct?"

Carla giggled and flicked ash into the tray in the center of the table. "Did he tell you that? Or did you just get your information mixed up?"

Wendy sighed. "Well, I am getting a lot of confusing information about the Pines family."

Carla shrugged. "Yeah, that makes sense. Lee never liked it when people knew more about him than he did about them. I imagine the story has been pretty messed up by local rumor and time. Time distorts everything."

Wendy removed her notepad. "So…did Leland really mutilate Stanford?"

Carla snuffed out the cigarette. "First, tell me. Where are you from? You're not from around here."

Wendy shrugged. "The west coast."

Carla nodded. "And what did Stanford show you that was so startling you had to come all the way here?"

Wendy knew that the woman would not divulge information without first receiving an answer to the question. It was in her tone, her stare, and body language.

"He showed me something which I would prefer to forget. Now please, I need…I need some closure on this."

Carla sniggered. "You want closure? I've spent the last forty years waiting for closure." She looked about ready to stab Wendy with the knife which she had been using to cut tomatoes when Wendy came knocking.

But instead, she removed a cigarette from her pack, this time offering one to Wendy ("No thank you, Ma'am). After her initial inhaling, she smiled with nostalgia.

"I was married to Leland Pines for two years. We first dated after he knocked out a bastard who was in the middle of sexually assaulting me. That was back in high school. Lee dropped out eventually and started working as a fisherman." Long inhale, long exhale. Wendy became aware that, with the rise of the sun and the lack of air conditioning, this room was rather stuffy.

"We bought this here house together, I commuted between college and town. Lee always had a smile for me, even though he wasn't very good at fishing." She took a deep breath. "He proposed six months in. Of course, I said yes, you didn't wait to get married back then. Ford was at the wedding." Wendy could hear the seagulls outside. "…I wish he hadn't been. I wish he had been like his parents and just left us alone. He's the one who ruined Lee's life."

Wendy frowned. "Wait, how?"

Carla tilted her head. "Do you want me to tell you the details or do you want context?"

Wendy folded her arms. "It's just that you seem to be focusing bits of the story which are not important."

Carla smirked. "Relax, girl. I've waited forty years to get zero answers…you can wait a couple minutes." She snuffed out the cigarette. "Not to mention, after a while, you get sick of answering the same questions over and over again. If you want to hear Ford's and Lee's stories, you're going to have to deal with mine."  
Wendy let out a long held breath. "I apologize. Please continue."

Carla moved to the oven. "First, I'm going to make myself some coffee. I hear you west coast millennials go nuts for coffee."

Wendy shrugged. "I wouldn't say no to a cup."

"Good, because I woke up today feeling like shit and if I tell you the whole story, I'm going to end up feeling worse."

 **[0]**

Robbie leaned against Cathy's grave. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her. He could hear her heavenly laughter, her ever-present smile. Her eyes when he fell back to Earth and from the grip of death.

 _You have to. You promised that you would always protect me._

Right, from nightmares. At age five to six, Cathy had been cursed with night terrors. She used to go running down the hall, diving into his bed and clutching him, forcing him to promise he would send the monsters away.

Eventually, she just always went to sleep in his bed, and that seemed to send the night terrors away.

 _You promised_.

You couldn't protect someone who was already dead. But you could protect what they loved. And what Cathy had loved was these woods, the plants, and the animals. If whatever power she had warned of was properly invoked, then all that would be ash. This valley which had taken her from the world would turn into a scar on the earth. That or the entire world would be one big scar.

He couldn't let that happen.

First, though, he wanted one last stop at his favorite place in the world. One last enjoyment of the serenity before he gave up what little he had left (his freedom, his morals).

Then, he would give it all up for her.

 **[0]**

"Lee was a gambler. Ford was a workaholic. Together, they didn't let anyone boss them around…except their father, Phillip. That man was a monster. They feared him like most people fear a home invasion or the economy tanking. Phillip never thought it was worth paying for the therapy which Ford clearly needed. Nope, just let the boy work himself out, that was his philosophy. I hope that in whatever pit his soul is currently inhabiting, he's happy with how this all turned out." She blew the curling steam from her second cup of coffee. "I suppose, Lee didn't think Ford needed therapy either. He thought that he would be enough to keep his brother in check."

She sipped her mug. "He was wrong."

Wendy waited for her to resume her story, eyes locked on the coffee in the chipped arctic blue mug which Carla had offered.

"Ford used to stumble in during the middle of the night, speaking nonsense and holding this wild look in his eye. He used to repeat numbers, over and over again to himself. He considered himself a genius but…I don't think he was. He just had strokes of genius, which I think is because he had a split personality. One moment he would be quiet, a little bit odd. The next, he would speak to himself in a rougher, more casual voice. The same voice he spoke to Lee in." She was about to light the third cigarette when Wendy asked if she would like a joint instead.

Carla smiled. "Sure thing, it's been a while anyhow."

After a couple puffs, she continued. "The thing which got Lee banished from the Pines house was how he gambled away some of Ford's college fund. But the thing which got him chased out of town, the same day that Phillip had a stroke…was when they found Ford down by the beach, washing his bloody hands in the water."

Wendy folded her arms. "But I've met him, he has five fingers on each hand."  
Carla gave her a look, like her skin, had just turned purple polka dots. "Stanford _used_ to have six fingers on each hand. He was what they call a 'medical anomaly.' He _used_ to have six fingers…that is…before they found him out there on the sand. Well, I imagine he's used makeup to cover the scars by now."

Wendy took a deep breath, trying to process all of this. "So…you don't believe that Lee cut off his brother's fingers? You said that he wanted Ford to um, fit in."

Carla shook her head. "He just wanted his brother to be happy. He had been looking after Ford his whole life, tending to his wounds, always supporting him. I don't think that, if he could have stopped it, my ex-husband would have allowed anyone to hurt his brother."  
"Then who-"

"Phillip? Some of the people who Ford owed money? I'm not sure who would do something as bizarre and cruel as that. All I know is that Ford had a bunch of money saved up to build this machine, which he claimed was going to 'change the world.' Lee left town with that money, maybe to pay off his brother's debts, maybe to buy himself a ticket as far away from here as possible. But he left a note."

After a moment of silence, she stood and moved to the cabinet which displayed a couple plates of china. Then she opened the top drawer and removed a slip of yellow paper. "I showed it to the police, and to those two men from the CIA, although why they were involved in Lee's affairs, I don't know."

Wendy asked if she could hold the note before actually doing so. Her eyes widened as she read.

 _"I KNOW THAT YOU MAY HATE ME AFTER THIS. I KNOW THAT EVERYONE IN TOWN WILL HATE ME. I'M SORRY, BUT I HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE. I CAN'T RETURN UNTIL IT IS FIXED. WE WILL MEET AGAIN, I PROMISE."_

The hand messy handwriting displayed all capital letters, the note having been written in the dark blue ink. Stains clung to the paper, the result of spilled coffee while others appeared to be the remnants of ash. She wondered how many times Carla must have considered burning the note.

"He left about a thousand dollars with that note. I wanted to tear it up, hell, I must have cried for hours." Wendy slid the note back over to Carla, who considered it with the same attitude one might direct towards roadkill. "He broke my heart, and yes, I think he either did something horrible or let something horrible happen to his brother." She looked up, meeting Wendy's eye. "But Lee would have sooner fed himself to the sharks than purposely hurt his brother. Ford left soon after for Cambridge and uh, that's the last I heard of either of them."

Wendy nodded as she stood. "Thank you for telling me this."

Carla stood up. "Umm…if you wanna to know anything else…well, their house is still here."

Startled, Wendy asked for directions. Once they were provided, she nodded thanked Carla for the coffee.

The old man called out as she reached the door. "What did Ford show you anyway?"

Wendy shuddered at the memory. "It's not the kind of thing I can describe." And with that, she was out and headed for Stan Pines' childhood home.

 **[0]**

Mabel glared at the chunk of clay.

It resisted her attempts to envision how to transform it into a giraffe. She hated this feeling, being on the edge of something and wasting her time with nothing.

An idea as to how she would execute the transformation popped into her head, and she leaped at the block, rolling up her sleeves and beginning to mold it with her hands.

"Excuse me…? Th-the generator broke…a-and I n-n-need someone to hold the access hatch open for me w-while I w-work on it."

She glanced up from the half-formed giraffe and found McGucket inhabiting the doorway. At first, she was hesitant, given how, according to Candy, he had been involved in the stealing of a body. Last night she had seen from her bed as Stan drove off, dead of night. If McGucket was sane enough to understand what Stan required of him, how could he be trusted to not turn on her if Stan wanted him to do just that?

However, the look on his face was timid that she couldn't very well refuse him. She slid off the bed and followed him out to the generator behind The Shack.

He worked faster than she thought possible, his fingers dancing across the machinery in search for any issues while she tried to get a good look at what he was doing. It was only standing over him now, that she realized she was taller than him. She also realized that he muttered to himself while working, and stranger, did so in a voice so much harsher than his regular one she had trouble understanding what it was he was saying.

Finally, she set down the access plate, and he drilled it shut. Refusing to meet her eye, he stood and coughed. "Th-thank y-you for th-the h-help…"

She nodded and was about to turn away when he spoke. "Umm…w-were you doing arts and c-crafts?"

She frowned. "Oh I…yeah, I was sculpting."

He raised his eyes and gave a hesitant smile. "R-really? M-my wife and I used to…to make art together every evening…we were p-p-planning on teaching Tate but we never…never g-got around t-to it…heh, stuff ch-changes I guess…"

She bent slightly. "Would you like to do some with me?"

He was startled by the offer and gave a goofy grin. "Sh-sh-sure…"

They spent the next hour in her room, Mabel still careful in his presence. She completed her giraffe quicker than that, but it took McGucket quite some time to finish. When he finally did, she saw that he had made a plane, the old kind used in WWI.

She clapped when he showed it to her and he thanked her for the chance. "I-I d-don't have a lot to do…and…to know that you'd hang around with a messed up geezer like me, it…it warms my heart…"

Her smile disappeared as he turned away. "Why do you let him push you around?"

He glanced back, obviously confused.

"Stan I mean, why do you let him tell you what to do all the time? You don't _seem_ like you want to do any of the less umm, savory stuff…but you do anyway."  
McGucket gave a shrug. "He-he-he's m-my only f-f-friend."

With that, he turned away with a vacant expression. Mabel allowed that to soak in. She glanced back at his plane and noticed that he had inscribed a name onto it.

"ISABELLA"

The name held no special meaning to it, for her. But there was a bittersweet romanticism to it. She had a sinking feeling of just who Isabella was.

Only friend? How was someone supposed to stay moral when their only friend, the only person they relied on started doing immoral deeds and needed their help? Who would choose ethics over companionship?

If Dipper started digging up bodies, would she be the one to turn him in? Would she go to jail for him? Would she throw her life away? She had friends now; Candy, Pacifica, even Brenda had risked her life to save her brother after only one polite discussion with him. But she had met them all within the past month. Dipper had been with her since day one, he had protected her from physical and spiritual attacks from every turn.

Ever giving up on him for an easier life, would be screwing him over in the way which she had always feared he might do to her.

She sighed. It came down to the fact that a good sister would not allow her brother to go off the deep end. A good sister would not allow the choice to come into play because she wasn't obsessed with her own crap.

A good sister wouldn't hide something like their uncle's nocturnal activities from her brother after she freaked out whenever that brother became reclusive and did not share information. That wasn't a friend, that wasn't a member of the family.

That was a leech.

 **[0]**

Robbie watched as kids played, a warm smile on his face. The bench was hot beneath him, but he didn't mind. Twice now, kids had asked about his arm. He didn't mind that either.

This was the place where he used to take Cathy, where he had pushed her on the swing set and counted to ten before searching for her.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Robbie looked up from the mulch and smiled up at Tambry. She wore a pair of black slacks and a green tee shirt with the words "Me sarcastic? Never" written in purple across the chest and stomach.

She sat down beside him. "Although, you should probably shave. You are not pulling off the stubble."

Robbie ran his hand across his chin, noticing how she was correct. He had not shaved since entering the hospital. It's funny how some things didn't matter as much after your entire existence is turned on its head.

"I guess I let time get away from me."

She smirked. "Where did you get that sweater?"

Robbie glanced at the gray sweater which only had one full-length sleeve, the other side with a hole for his stump. "Mabel made it for me, actually."

"The girl who was possessed and almost killed us?"

He nodded solemnly, wondering what would become of her after he stole the thing she cared most about.

"I…I'm sorry that I didn't visit you in the hospital."

Robbie shrugged. "It's fine."

Tambry shook her head. "No, it was stupid and selfish of me. You needed me the most you ever have and I…I was too afraid."

Robbie glanced up. "Afraid of what?"

She let out a long sigh. "That you would lash out…that I would…I…"

He smiled. "We've known each other since kindergarten, right?"

She nodded.

"So just tell me. I've stabbed someone before Tambry, I've assaulted…a number of individuals." _I'm about to murder someone because they_ might _deserve it._ "It's not my place to judge others."

Tambry sighed and he realized how cute she looked when uncomfortable.

"I've had a crush on you…for a very long time. I was afraid that if I came by during your stay, that would…slip out now that Wendy is out of the picture. I was afraid that I would freak you out or that you would be resentful. And then, then I was afraid you would hate me for not visiting as soon as possible."

Robbie caught his breath and then stared at the cloudless sky. "Tambry, I would…I'm not…I have something I have to do. And I'm afraid that this might be our last conversation if I go through with it."

Tambry's eyes widened. "You're not going to kill yourself are you!?"

He shook his head. _It's worse_ ; he wanted to say but didn't.

She slid closer to him. "Well, you survived losing Cathy, Juvenile Hall, having your arm ripped off…I think that whatever it is you have to handle…I believe you'll survive it."  
 _What if I don't want to?_

He choked up, realizing that this only made what he had to do more painful. "I…I…"

"Hey," She wrapped an arm around him. "Don't cry, you'll make all the kiddies feel sad."

Robbie wiped his nose. "Thanks, Tambers."

She flicked him in the ear. "Don't call me that."

He couldn't help but laugh.

 **[0]**

Mabel descended the staircase to find Dipper and Pacifica sharing the sofa. Their eyes were locked onto the book, her telling him something about the book itself while he read it with growing caution.

But from the moment she saw them, from the moment she saw Pacifica's hand, right next to Dipper's neck, the world slowed down. Her first thought was; _oh no._ Her second thought was; _why is this a bad thing?_

Both looked up at her approach and smiled.

"Hey, Mabel!"

"Did you finish your statue?" Dipper asked.

She stepped closer and cracked a grin. "Yeah, I uh, I finished it a couple hours ago. Did you enjoy your walk?"

Dipper smirked. "Well, I ran into ice queen here while I was in the woods and it turned out that not only is she a Sinatra fan, but she plays one of the most boring sports in existence."

Pacifica gave him a friendly, threatening smile. "Hey! I don't see you working out, anyway?" She picked up one of Dipper's arms. "Look at this thing, it's practically a noodle! I bet your sister has more muscle mass than you."

He chuckled and tugged his hand out of Pacifica's grip. "That's cause I've got better things to do than swing a stick at balls until they fall in a _hole_."

She looked ready to pounce on him when Mabel moved over to them, staring at the picture of a thousand eyes and teeth latched on a cloud of swirling black orbs. "What are you looking at?"

Dipper's attention was returned to the book and he grinned in that enthusiastic way which made him look less tired. "Oh, Paz had a ton of ancient books in the family library and she brought me this one so we could figure out what type of demon Gideon is planning on summoning."

Mabel giggled nervously. "Demons aren't uh, the way that they are in popular culture, right? Like how the faeries turned out to be horrible psychos?"

Dipper shook his head. "They're actually worse from what I've read so far. Although a lot of this is very difficult to understand…if only someone had informed me that the words would be microscopic."

Pacifica folded her arms. "Well, I'm sorry Mr. Pines, that two centuries ago, the person who wrote this book did not write the text to the size which your particular eyes need."

Dipper pretended to be taken aback. "Hey! My eyes are fine! Mabel! Tell Pacifica that my eyes are fine but my bladder has trouble!"

The blonde burst into giggles and Dipper looked pleased to have extracted such a reaction. Mabel however, was already turning away and trying to drill some rationality into her skull.

Why did it matter that the two were hitting it off, perhaps romantically? Hadn't that been what she wanted from the beginning? Dipper was messed up enough when it came to girls, that any non-dysfunctional social practice on his part could not be viewed as a dilemma. Besides, didn't she trust Paz enough at this point, to not ruin his self-esteem (if it even could be worse than it currently was)?

So why, why did she feel like a leech all over again?

Mabel watched Stan as he cleaned plates and whistled "I've Been Working on The Rail Road." She could not turn into a possessive and manipulative monster. No, she _would_ not. That would put her along the lines of Gideon, the person who wanted to summon a demon, the person who was so obsessed with not letting go of his sister that he wanted to kidnap her, just because she reminded him of his long-dead sibling.

She had to tell Dipper tonight.

 **[Noisufnoc fo not a ni tluser nac ssenevitnevni fo kcal a.0]**

Wendy's first step into the Pines family house resulted in a loud creak. This was followed by her nose detecting a pungent rot.

She followed the stench into the kitchen, where food, now black with rot sat in clumps atop cracked plates. Four chairs had been arranged for a meal, all untouched in decades. The kitchen window was broken, and a swarm of ants had found their way to the rotting clumps through that or one of the other various holes in the building.

In the living room, the furniture was untouched. The TV had a thick film of dust across it, and a glass of wine had been placed on the arm table. It too had not been disturbed since whatever had caused people to flee this house, happened.

Wendy climbed the stairs with extreme care, wondering if she would strike the basement if she fell through them. They did not give way by some miracle, and she reached the hall above. A grandfather clock sat against the wall, about seven feet tall. Etched into the yellow wallpaper, there were marks of height. On one side of the timekeeper, the etchings were inscribed hastily, while on the other they were very easy to understand.

 _Stan and his brother._

They must have competed for who was taller like her brothers did to this day. A sense of homesickness caught in her throat. The grandfather clock chimed and she jumped at the noise. If the miraculously working device was to be believed, it was four already.

Glancing back and forth, she noted the two bedrooms and headed for the one to her right. The bed had been made. On the bedside table, was a family photo.

It depicted a slender, dark-skinned woman in a red dress, beside a stiff looking man dressed in a yellow button up, who wore a pair of sunglasses. At their knee height, were two smiling boys, ten or eleven each. One of them waved at the photo taker with a six-fingered hand, his left arm wrapped around his brother's shoulders. He looked almost identical to his brother, who wore a messy red and white striped shirt to contrast his brother's brown button up, and had oval lenses spectacles vs his brother's rectangular ones.

Beside the photo was a book labeled "THE MASTERY OF PRUNING" had a dog ear on page 27. The passage had been scribbled black with a pen.

Wendy slipped the book into her bag.

A revolver lay on the left side pillow. It had only one bullet in it. She placed it in her bag.

There was a painting of the great Pyramids of Giza hanging on the wall, the nail which supported it creating a storm of cracks across the plaster. Now why did this room lack wallpaper? The window was octangular in shape and overlooked the bay.

She opened the closet. A dozen coats flanked the doorway, all jammed against one another, as though guarding something. Wendy brushed them aside and discovered a door at the back of the closet.

The door was revealed only by how time had stripped it of the paint which had kept it unseen. A four-digit combination lock restricted access to whatever wonders lay beyond it.

Wendy tried "2728" to no avail.

The other bedroom was not as strange, even comfortable to be inside. It was untidy, with a dozen sports magazines supporting an inflatable clown punching bag. The wallpaper peeled down in great strips inside this room, forming claws over to the two beds which the room contained. The right-side bed had a cluster of magazines and wrappers surrounding the single, stained pillow. A picture had been wedged into the rafters above.

It was of Carla, and it appeared to have been torn from a school photo book.

The left side was the opposite. The bed was as clean as a whistle, with four pillows stacked atop on another. A bookshelf had been implanted at a head height of the wall, and it was stuffed. Most of the books appeared to be about geometry and physics.

A box of toys sat beside the door, a book of nautical navigation leaning against it. The room had one window which had been nailed shut from the outside, disturbingly enough. Wendy was about to leave the room when she saw what had been scratched into the paint on the bottom right corner of the window.

"25.0000 N, 71.0000 W" had been written in that same neat engraving as from the right side of the grandfather clock. She picked up the spy glass which leaned against the window and dusted it off, staring out that particular pane. Out, across the water, she could see a boat, shipwrecked against a sandy dune.

She returned to the bedroom and input "2571."

The lock snapped off and she eased the door open. The smell of what maggots are born in struck her and she was presented with a flight of stairs. Along the wooden walls which made the stairs rather claustrophobic, someone had written hundreds of numbers, each half an inch long.

Her fingers tingled when they made contact with that neat, orderly engraving. When she reached the top of the stairs, her breath caught in her throat.

 **[0]**

Robbie found Dipper and Mabel on the back porch. Convenient, considering that he would be able to dash into the woods which he knew like the back of his hand after he unloaded the gun.

 _One shot to the forehead is all it takes._

"We need to do something!"  
"But are you sure? You've been wrong about these things before…"  
"Listen, there's no mistake in being safe…right?"

Mabel wrung her hands. "But…a demon?"

Dipper exhaled. "Listen, I know that this is scary. I've already seen what one looks like and they are goddamn terrifying. But we'll make it through this…but only if we cast this spell right now."

She nodded. "Alright, I'll get the supplies."

As she turned inside she managed a smile for Robbie. "Hey! Um, now's not the best time to stop by, but…"

He pushed a smile. It took all the energy in his body. "I actually wanted to talk to Dipper."

Surprised, she made an "o" with her mouth and before heading inside.

Robbie turned to the expectant Dipper and slid a hand into his jacket pocket. "So…what were you two arguing about?"

He waved the question aside. "It's probably for the best if you don't worry about it."

"The last thing I didn't know about took off my arm."

"If you insist."  
 _Sure, anything to keep this moving. Anything to delay the inevitable._

"Well, there's this kid…Gideon…well, he _was_ a kid, by now he's an old man. Anyway, judging from the readouts, I'm pretty sure that he is going to summon a demon."

Robbie froze. "He's a kid?"

"Well, he was. He had this immortality spell…sorry if this sounds cheesy to you."

Robbie swallowed. "D-does he has a book like yours?"

Dipper frowned. "Yeah…yeah, he does…why?"

Robbie let go of the pistol. "What can I do to help?"

Surprised, Dipper removed his wallet. "You can help Mabel buy the supplies that I need to perform an exorcism in case he goes inside anyone's mind. You can drive, right?"

Robbie was too relieved to give anything more than a vague "If she helps."

"Great. We could use all the help we can get." Dipper stepped closer. "Are you…are you crying?"

Robbie turned to the doorway. "I just have something in my eye."

With that, he had turned away from Dipper and inside. _Cathy, next time you give me a message, would it kill you to be more specific?_ He thought, his stomach still in knots but his mouth laughing raggedly anyway.

Life had a funny way of not being as horrible as he assumed it to be. Yes, there was still work to do, but first, he was going to call Tambry. Demon slaying could come second to hearing her voice.

 **[0]**

"Dipper?" Mabel poked one finger against the other, trying to understand how she could broach the subject gently.

Dipper looked away from the billboard of information. "Yes?"

His eyes were so innocent.

"Umm, there's something I've been meaning to tell you…about Stan…"  
He nodded patiently, blinking once in the awkward silence created.

"He uh…Um, I was just…well…"

Dipper smirked. "Mabel, it's okay. He's saved me more than once…just tell me what it is."

Mabel swallowed. "I just saw the boxing gloves in his room…and I know that you wanted to learn hand to hand combat…"  
He smiled. "Wow, that man really is a jack of all trades."

Mabel nodded, her stomach turning as she moved back inside. _Why didn't you tell him, why didn't you say something?_

 _Because a leech dies when it doesn't have something to latch onto._

Tomorrow. She would tell him tomorrow, Mabel assured herself.

 **[0]**

Wendy stared in horror at the center of the attic floor.

There was a triangle, painted in red blood, with a circle surrounding it. Burnt out candles, deformed from their dripping wax, fashioned a pentagram around the circle.

Most disturbing was the sand in the center of the triangle, for it had been arranged to form the words "WELCOME CHILD."

The message didn't stay. As she came closer, it drew across the floor boards, moving without the influence of air flow, but instead flowed like water, pooling and sliding.

"OR SHOULD I CALL YOU WENDY?" It said, sending her stomach into some void. The teen tensed and licked her lips.

She got the impression that someone was laughing at her, somewhere in the universe. A desire to sprint down the stairs and burn this house to the ground on her way out the front door started in her stomach and crawled up into her head, latching onto her brain.

She shivered and bent on one knee, extending a hand to the sand. "What the hell is this stuff?"

The redhead jerked her hand away when the sand stung her fingertips and watched as the sand move again.

"DON'T TOUCH WHAT YOU CAN'T AFFORD." It said. Before she could even contemplate this, the sand leaped back into motion. "THE QUESTION IS NOT 'WHAT', ITS _WHO_."

The sand quivered on the floor in anticipation of her next question.

She clenched her hand to restore feeling to it and smiled. "Alright…who are you?"

The sand darted about, forming words and then deciding against them. "A FRIEND. YOUR ONLY FRIEND."

She somehow doubted this.

"Why are you here? Did Stan Pines summon you?"

The sand took the time to consider which question it should answer. "STAN PINES DIDN'T SUMMON ME." It jumped into the next sentence just as she finished reading the last as if reading her mind. "STAN PINES THINKS THAT I AM DEAD."

Wendy blinked. "So you're not just…sand?"

"NO, YOU MORON. I AM MORE THAN COULD BE SAID WITH THE SAND IN THE UNIVERSE."

She folded her arms, the pull to leave this town and never come back, returning. "Alright…but you can be killed?"

Laughter filled the air and Wendy glanced around the bare attic, her attention brought back to the sand when it finished.

"NO. STAN PINES IS A BIGGER MORON THAN DR. LOGAN."

She stood, backing away until her spine struck the decaying wall. The laughter returned and she was sure now, that it was coming from the circle. Her desire to leave had 9increased, while her fear of the consequences had grown. What if this thing didn't want her to leave?

Dr. Logan had been the psychiatrist who her mother had gone to. The one who failed at ending her mother's insomnia, the one who she had blamed first following her mother's death. If this being knew about him, then who's to say what it _didn't_ know.

"H-how do you know about that?"

The candles jumped to life, burning blue as the sand moved beneath their aura.

"I HAVE EYES EVERYWHERE…I SEE ALL..." The sand turned to rapid pace words. "REALITY. DREAMS. TIME. THOUGHTS. EVERYTHING. I THINK…THEREFOR YOU ARE."

Wendy got the feeling that the spirit was patting itself on the back for how clever it was. That should have been ridiculous, an egotistical claim even for whatever spirit was responsible for this form of communication. But she believed it.

She moved to the door, heaving it open and throwing one last look over her shoulder.

The sand now appeared pale blue under the candle light just as the paint looked like dried blood. The message, meanwhile, made her blood run cold.

"COME BACK ANYTIME, SNOWFLAKE. I'VE GOT ETERNITY TO WAIT."

The attic disappeared with that final word, her mind leaping to a memory she had not considered in so long that it was almost buried in how different her life had become. As a toddler, she had darted about in the snow, giggling and catching snowflakes on her tongue. And her mother had called her from the doorway of the place that was her home, not a house she hated being inside.

She had run over, hugging her mother's pregnant belly and basking in her warmth. _You've got a little something on your nose, Snowflake_. Her mother had said with a smile, reached down and brushing a touch of snow from Wendy's nose.

Then her mother had brought her inside, for hot chocolate. She had burnt her tongue on the drink and almost cried from how it felt.

 _It's alright_ , her mother had insisted. _That's what happens when you drink too much too fast._

Then she had lifted her up and kissed her on the forehead. She had been told that she was always going to be her little snowflake, beautiful and happy. Crystalline in her intentions, the pride and joy of her momma.

Wendy brushed tears from her eyes, her vision returning to the sand.

It had not moved. Making a noise somewhere between a moan and scream, she fled the attic and stopped down the stairs. She twisted her ankle when the last step broke in, sending her toppling forward.

Pushing herself to her feet, she limped out of the bedroom and into the hallway. As she contemplated the flight of stairs, the grandfather clock chimed, startling her into movement. Her descent allowed her to realize that it was dark outside and that the clock was chiming nine o'clock.

Had she been in the attic for hours? How was that possible?  
Well, she supposed there wasn't much which was impossible at this junction.

Drunk on her fearful wondering, she stumbled down the beach. The sea was out, giving her the ability to approach that wrecked boat which she had seen from Stan's bedroom. It was completely dark by the time she reached it, the clouds a menacing presence gave what she had just experienced.

In the sloppy blue paint, the vessel had been christened "THE STAN'O WAR." Inside, there was a ton of old toys, newspapers, and boards of wood no doubt fished from the local scrap heap. She remembered the book of nautical dreams.

 _Stan Pines…what happened to you?_

When you thought about Al Capone, you didn't think about little Alphonse Capone playing hide and go seek with the neighbors kids. When you thought about Jack the Ripper, you didn't think of someone who ever had hopes or dreams or happiness. Maybe Stan wasn't comparable to those individuals, but he certainly had his fair share of skeletons in his closet.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for Stan's already complicated life history to contain inconsistent and misleading information. Wendy sat down beside some boards of wood, staring up at the leaky roof and wondering if she would ever know the truth, or if she would be led in circles.

Whatever had been controlling that sand, however, it was coming for Stan, and by proxy, the twins. She had to stop that, even if she had no idea how.

 **[0]**

Gideon and eight others stood in a circle. Miss Grey was tied to the pole in the center of the circle, naked and screaming, just like _he_ preferred his victims to be. The night sky thundered overhead, the clouds beginning to circle this spot as Gideon drew the correct symbols onto her writhing skin with goat's blood. The wind had begun to pick up, and a light sprinkle pelted the red hood of his ceremonial robes. He stepped back and joined hands with his fellow cultists, all of them chanting as the sky rumbled louder than ever.

The air was cool, the night, young. A silence had come over the entire forest as they arranged the candles. It was time.

Gideon began to recite in Molalla language the words which would summon this –particular demon. All reverence for tone and use was gone, as he didn't understand the language any more than everyone else who had used the chant to summon the presence of what the natives had called "The Twisted One."

Had anyone heard them, they would have considered them gobbledygook, akin to the jargon which Charles Douglas dredged up for The Jabberwocky poem.

But the chant held power. More power than any human being. More power than a trillion atom bombs or a billion dying suns.

The other eight began to recite along with him, all of them having waited their entire lives for someone with the ability to speak with and summon the demons. Some had been raised to worship this creature, others were his agents, following every word he placed in their minds, in return for a prize which would never come. Some were former sacrifices, rejected by _him_ and thus, obsessed with giving themselves to him after glimpsing his "glory."

They were all shells of what they once had been, consumed by "The Twisted One's" intellect. _He_ wouldn't have had them any other way.

Birds fled the area, the worms in the ground dug deeper than ever before to escape the growing corruption. All the radio broadcasts in the area turned to static and the lights all over town flickered. Inside the van full of monitoring equipment, which he had parked on the edge of town, Agent Gray reeled when his headset screeched. The screech did not resemble one created in a mechanical fashion, but rather a sound which humans were not made to come in contact with.

He threw the headset to the floor, stamping his shoe upon the headset until it was nothing but bits. He panted for breath, his pupils returning from dilation to normal. In his living room, Tobias Towner watched as the anchorwoman began speaking directly to him, black liquid pooling around her eye sockets as the scrolling news feed began to depict arcane symbols. Susan Matte's cat leaped off her lap and went streaking out the back door, howling for all that it was worth.

Preston Norwood awoke in bed, his skin beginning to burn. He tossed the prostitute beside him out of bed and grabbed a robe, throwing it on as he sent her out with a well-placed scream. He removed a bottle of fifty-year-old whiskey from his bedside cupboard and cracked it open on strength alone. Standing on the balcony just off his bedroom, he stared at the stars of the sky as he down the bottle one swig at a time.

Hundreds of miles away, Carla McCorkle was awoken by a nightmare and immediately sent into a heart attack.

While Gideon could not witness any of these acts, he had a feeling that something equal was happening.

 _He was opening the garden gate._

"You can't do this!" Miss Grey screamed, as though she still held some control over the situation. "You'll doom yourselves!"

The clouds parted and the starry sky was shown. It didn't stay that way for long. One by one, the stars blinked out, their light no longer able to reach the minds of the soon to be regretful participants.

 _He was wiping his shoes on the welcome mat._

Gideon could feel an energy more powerful than any he'd experienced in his entire life, flow through him. It was a thousand times greater than the adrenaline of moving objects with his mind. His comrades felt likewise, and all but him fell to their knees with the force of it. Black ooze poured from their orifices, pooling on the ground. Miss Grey no longer shrieked, but sobbed with the knowledge that soon, she would be his.

The candles were all snuffed out by a gust of wind. Gideon realized that reality must be truly warping because the gust refused to cease blowing. The sound of drums started up, emanating from everywhere. It was followed by a chorus of voices, all singing those deadly, deadly words, rose from the center of the ring.

Fire formed a pentagram around the ten human beings, fire a roaring red at first, but then growing in intensity until it became white, then blue. Obnoxious, screeching laughter filled the air and Miss Grey screamed as yellow energy crackled throughout her being, cooking her from the inside out.

 _He was kicking down the fucking door._

Miss Grey burned away to a skeleton and the trees surrounding Gideon turned into claws. The fire snaked in between the evoker's of the demonic power and formed a pillar in the center. The azure quality of the flames was replaced by a roaring emerald tint. Slowly, the orb of fire rotated, and with each rotation, expanded. Miss Gray's charred bones were lifted into the air. They danced for a little bit, each one snapping until their still boiling marrow was wrenched free. It circled the orb, once, twice, thrice, and then a shred of void spread across the front of the orb, forming a diamond shape.

This served as an access point for the marrow, and the flames flickered blue. The black expanded until it was a billowing singularity, tugging everything, from light to boulders in its direction. A single pale leg, taller than Gideon was, stepped out of the black hole, stomping on the ground and sending tremors (4.5 on the Richter scale) across the valley.

Gideon realized that the laughter was still going, it had just grown so shrill that first, it had caused his ears to bleed and then had become imperceptible to the human ear. Plasma dribbled down his coat as a pale hand reached out of oblivion and gripped the edge of the black hole. It had four fingers, each one growing thinner until, at their points, they were as thin as a needle. Each finger grew blacker the farther it got from the bandaged yellow flesh of the hand, until at their needle points, they were as colorless as the void from whence they came.

The laughter lowered in pitch, striking his ears again. He could feel his grip on reality giving way, but he'd already gone too far for turning back to be an option. There was no summoning without a deal.

A second hand, then a second leg. Then a third hand, followed by a triangle shaped head with a single eye which lacked a pupil or an iris, or even blood vessels. It was just a milky white orb which appeared to be considering the world. Then came the fourth hand, and the demon hoisted himself out of the portal.

He wore a tattered navy blue jacket, which was missing all buttons. Bandages wrapped around his neck, just as they constricted his hands, wrists, and the part of the leg revealed by his not quite long enough black slacks, just above the blood caked boots which he wore.

The demon's anatomy was so incorrect, that Gideon had to assume that the mockery of human biology was purposeful. For instance, the hands faced in the wrong direction, the arms were longer than the legs (which had to be seven feet tall each).

Most disturbing of these details, however, was how the demon lacked an eyelash. This mean that the eye would never close, never water. It would remain open forever and for always. Never ceasing its observation of the world.

The thought made Gideon want to keel over right there.

As soon as he had fully exited the tear in the dimensional fabric, the demon reached out and in a derision of physical perspective, yanked the black hole up out of the air and held it in front of its head. The singularity had become the size of a record, and for a moment the demon flicked it back and forth like a magician displaying the hare which he had fished out of a hat.

Then he placed the hole _into_ his eye. The tunnel in the universe grew narrower until it formed a reptilian sliver of sight, one which darted between the fallen followers.

The eye locked onto Gideon after a couple seconds, and the massive being stepped forward. With its upper right side hand, it adjusted its moth ridden bowtie, while with its lower left hand, it removed a busted stopwatch and glanced at the clock face with an eye bigger than his head.

Returning the stopwatch into its jacket, the demon leaned down and tilted its head. It spoke in a voice which was just too high pitched to entertain children, but one which sounded like the echoing rasp of an old man, dying at the bottom of a mineshaft.

 _"You're late, Gideon."_

* * *

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 **/{0}\**

* * *

 **Message: Evol ew seno eht rof era od ew sgniht lufwa tsom eht.**

 ** _WE FINALLY GOT TO CIPHER! YEEEEEESSSS._**

 ** _You have no idea how happy this makes me._**

* * *

 _Situation71: Gosh, the way you bring all these canon elements into your story is still amazing. Really loving this._

 ** _Thanks! I didn't think I'd be able to include Blandon or Mermando, but I'm very happy how it has turned out. ^u^_**

* * *

 ** _Q & A: _**

_NaillingTheSoap: It's interesting to see that Dipper was happy and kinda had a romance here in this chapter. I thought it seemed out of place, but then again the only thing scarier than Hell is Hell with a small chance of getting out of it. Also, Amanda Ramirez... She has a brother... Ramirez... Are you implying that her dead sibling is Soos? The Gnaak killed him?_

 ** _First off, it is not "The Gnaak", it is "Gn'aak." It is not a title, it's a name. ;=)_**

 ** _Secondly, I did not realize that, but now that you've mentioned it, I might connect her somehow (Soos is too old be her brother and he lives in the wrong place but it is possible for them to bear relation)._**

 _Coldblue:_

 _2) Will we see the Pine Twins find out more about Stan Pines so that they can't tell if he a bad man or the lesser evil of this town or someone they can't judge easily?_

 ** _People who betray Dipper are easily judged by him._**

 _5) Will there be a chapter of Dipper and Mable going into Stan Pines mind to stop Bill Cipher/Dream or Mind Demon? Ever thought of Dipper, Mable, Candy, Pacifica, Brenda, and Wendy look into their own minds to see what makes up their characters/personality/history?_

 ** _I cannot put that many characters into a setting for one episode. That clutters the narrative. I will, however, be revealing about the minds of the cast in my version of Dreamscapers._**

 _Suggestions_

 _3) It would be great to read a Summary and Conclusion of "Depravity Falls". I mean, I like "Gravity Falls" ending BUT I wanted more. I kind of hope we read a ten year time skip with what going on with the characters such as Dipper, Mable, Stan, Wendy, Pacifica, Candy, Brenda, McGucket and whoever else is alive or not dead at the end of "Depravity Falls". I could read Dipper Pines have doctrines in Linguistics, Archeology, and Criminology and still study Gravity/Depravity Falls mysteries. Mable would be with Dipper adventures, have loving friends, and probably run the Mystery Shack. It would be great to read how Candy's life and Brenda's life turn out if they become a couple or not. Pacifica and Wendy make me curious to wonder how close they are with the Pine Twins. I don't know about Stan because he always a mystery. McGucket had a pretty good ending in "Gravity Falls", but who knows how it will end in "Depravity Falls."_

 ** _I'll think about it. I do enjoy time skips._**

 _5) This is just an idea from the "Gravity Falls" season one, which focused on "Carpet Diem"/Episode 16 and "Dreamscapers"/Episode 19, I figure it would be a good idea and sort of build trust in this group friends/allies that the Pine Twins have. Of course, they would reveal character development in characters that you wanted to write out, but could never figure out that chapter to do it._

 _I figure in "Dreamscapers", that in "Depravity Falls" they not only enter Stan Pines mind/dreams but each others. Sort of like a window into how each others mind ticks or why they act like do now. Of course, Mable and Dipper are in there. It would be interesting if Stan Pines entered the kids mind. I wish Pacifica and Wendy would enter Pines Family minds, also the other way around. I'm up in the air about Candy and Brenda, but I feel Candy more likely because she became a great character in "Depravity Falls." It just an idea. I sort of got it from "Nightmare on Elm Street" with how in one the movies the teenagers became Dream Warriors to battle Freddy Krueger, which is not different from a dream/mind demon._

 ** _The Dreamscape will be different in that it utilizes the subconscious of all who enter it._**


	12. S1, E10: Mental Images

**Episode 10: Mental Pictures**

* * *

 _"Only in our dreams are we free. The rest of the time we need wages." –Terry Pratchett_

 _"Let's suppose that you were able every night to dream any dream you wanted to dream, and you would naturally as you began on this adventure of dreams, you would fulfill all your wishes. You would have every kind of pleasure, you see, and after several nights you would say, well that was pretty great, but now let's have a surprise, let's have a dream which isn't under control. 'Well, something is going to happen to me that I don't know what it's gonna be.' Then you would get more and more adventurous, and you would make further and further out gambles as to what you would dream, and finally you would dream where you are now." –Nuages, "Dreams"_

* * *

Gideon stepped closer, feeling the breeze tickle the back of his neck as the demon surveyed the world. The warlock observed it, while it extended a hand, and allowed a bird to rest on its index finger.

"How do you know my na-"

 _"Pipilo chlorurus."_

Gideon felt the subject of some practical joke. He faltered the first time he tried to respond and then managed to capture the words. "Excuse me?"

The demon turned its gaze on him and he instantly wished that the eye had remained directed at the bird. _"Pipilo chlorurus is the name of this bird. It's also called the Green-tailed Towhee, but I prefer the latter rather than the former. Like your kind, Gideon. Homo sapiens sounds_ way _better than 'human being.' Not sure why…it just does."_

Gideon remained silent as the demon continued on.

 _"The approximate height is 7.2 inches. The approximate wingspan is 9.8. The average weight is 1 oz. The oldest recorded was seven years and eight months of age when rereleased into the wild. If a predator approaches one, then the females will run across the ground with their tails raised…pretending to be a chipmunk, to distract the predator. Isn't that funny? A bird pretending to be a chipmunk? Like a jellyfish pretending to be a squid…or a Homo sapiens pretending to be a god."_

The Green-Tailed Towhee flew off, and the demon snapped his fist closed, eye darting at Gideon with violent speed. Gideon winced getting the idea that the demon was pissed off with him, for some reason. Letting out a sigh, he turned towards Gideon.

 _"Sorry for the spiel, when you know everything you find amusement in strange places."_

He glanced back and forth at the unconscious individuals which lay to either side of it. _"Looks like you had a real party in my honor, didn'tchya?"_ He glanced back and forth at the bodies of the other eight participants. _"…that's one hangover which you never wake up from."_

His voice was chaotic, reverberating and as inescapable as the demon's vision. The voice dug in and stuck for quite a while.

Gideon coughed. "You are-"

 _"An entity whose name is so incompatible with your species' vocal cords that you would have to crush your own windpipe to articulate most of it."_ The demon responded. He shrunk to half his previous size (still twice his size). He raised his head to meet Gideon's gaze again. _"_ You _will call me Bill…that's the first name an anthropoid gave me which didn't translate into 'Merciful One'…heh, man_ those _were_ _the days…"_

Gideon did not see fit to refuse this request.

Bill stood upright and extended a hand, his sharp fingers pointed out towards Gideon's sweat soaked face. The warlock stared at the bits of a glove which inhabited the hand alongside the bandages and the black tendrils which squirmed out of whatever injuries the demon had seen unfit to share. He reached for the hand, and it shot up, far out of reach and over the demon's back.

Bill bursting into laughter at the confusion and frustration of his summoner. _"I thought someone as deep-rooted as you wouldn't fall for that trick! AHAHAAHA!"_

The demon drew a hand across his eye, wiping away a non-existent tear, and walked over the pile of charred and now bones which had once been Miss Gray. _"Oh, it never gets old."_

Gideon ran to keep up with the colossal strides of the demon. "HEY! STOP JOKING! I'VE GOT AN IMPORTANT JOB FOR YOU!"

Bill's head did a full 180 and rolled his eye. _"Right, right, you want me to force Stan Pines into shooting himself and his nephew."_ He turned the rest of his body around too and passed back over to the white haired man. _"Then you will rule the world blah, blah, blah, blah...I get it, I get it..."_

Gideon stopped frowning as the being bent to face him. "How do you-"

 _"I can hear your thoughts, moron."_ Bill rapped on his skull, causing him to hop back in pain. _"And they are, by the way, about as pathetic as you are. Seriously man, when are you gonna quit jerking off to a girl who looks like your sister and isn't even half your age?"_

Gideon snarled and poked Bill's bowtie with his hand. "D-Don't insult me! I summoned you, and I-I-and I demand that you-"

 **"If you would like to retain that hand, I recommend you remove it from my person, _pal_."**

The white eye had turned black, the yellow flesh now pulsating volcanic red. The squeaky, out of breath voice had turned into the rumbling of an eruption. Had it been any deeper, the human ear would have proved futile in attempting to understand what garbled horror it created.

Not that Bill was actually talking.

His "voice" was projected straight into Gideon's head, skipping the matter of needing a mouth (or ears for that matter) in the first place. Demons were pragmatic that way, their evolution motivated by contemplation rather than chance. That's why they had been around so long. They never stopped adapting.

Gideon did as commanded and licked his lips. "I…I apologize."

 _"No need, we both know that you meant nothing by it."_ Bill brushed Gideon's left shoulder, like a mother cleaning the dust (or perhaps snow from her son's person. _"Just_ don't _do it again, hmm?"_

Gideon nodded.

Bill sat down, crossing his legs and tapping his sharpened fingers against the spikes which extended from his knees. _"Now…regarding my compensation."_

Gideon swallowed. "I'll give you anything you want."

Bill giggled and placed a hand against his lack of chin. _"WOW. Most people at least to pretend that they have cards when playing poker."_

Gideon winced. "If you can read my mind, then you know that I am at the end of my rope."

 _"That I do. But of course, your influence, prominence, and currency are all worth absolute zilch to someone of my…uh, what's the word for it? Ah, I hate it when this happens…QUATUMN POSITION_ , _that's the word! There we go. That's the word..."_

"Bodies. I can give you-"

 _"I'll hunt on my own time, thank you very much. No, what you are going to do for me, Gideon, is something much, much more special."_

"What is it?"

Bill stood up and his eye turned pale blue. _"When you die, you're going to be my servant. Deal?"_ He extended a four-fingered hand, one which blue fire surrounded, bright and flickering.

Gideon stared at the fire, surprised. He had expected something akin to "your eyeballs" or perhaps something metaphysical like "your soul." Ten years sounded absolutely splendid in comparison to these possibilities.

Something was wrong then. He had heard the stories, everyone who knew about demons knew that they didn't ask for trivial things. He didn't have much choice, however, so he extended his hand, only jerking it back when he realized that he was about to touch actual flames.

Bill made the sound of someone who had just smirked. _"They are cold as ice. Put your hand closer and you won't feel any heat."_

Gideon moved his hand closer, and before he could assess the claim, Bill grabbed it. The warlock screamed, attempting to pull away put unable. Had his hair no already been white, it would have turned that color from the trauma of staring into the demon's eye as pain seared through him. Bill giggled as blue energy crawled up Gideon's arm, filling the veins and causing the muscles to grow petrified.

 _"I can't believe that you fell for that trick…TWICE! AHAHAHAHA!"_ Bill let go, allowing Gideon to topple over. He turned away, his laughter cracking through the night air.

Gideon sobbed as he stared at the brand on his hand. It was a triangle, with an eye in the center of it. Scrawled around the circle were symbols which he did not understand.

Bill glanced back and giggled, the hilarity draining from the situation. _"Oh get over it, it'll disappear when the deal is completed. Besides, people used to have to cut off their limbs just to make a deal with me. You A.D. folks are so entitled."_

Gideon glared up, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You have to renew my immortality."  
 _"Excuse me?"_

He stumbled to his feet. "You said ten years. In order to live for the next ten years, you have to give me another amulet so that I won't die. Ten years, that was the deal."

Bill tilted his head and then burst out into more screeching laughter. _"Well done InfinitySign, you've got a future as a lawyer in you. Alright, here we go."_

He reached into his coat pocket with his bottom right hand and tossed an amulet to Gideon.

 _"There you go porkchop, knock yourself out."_

By the time that Gideon had placed the amulet around his neck, the demon was gone. It would be worth it, it would all be worth it when he had The Machine and his queen. That's what he told himself as he collapsed in the dirt and waited for the sun to come up.

 **[0]**

Stan ducked out of the way of the punch.

His opponent circled, biting his lip, fists raised. He was ready to block any retaliation. He was impressive for someone as young as he was. Still, youth always held an arrogance to it, and arrogance was almost as dangerous as inexperience.

Stepping out of the way of a second swing, he noted that his opponent had both. He had fought in Columbia, in South Africa, in Mexico, and in Australia. He was not about to lose to this scrawny punk.

Stan grinned when the kid through another punch and was able to step out of the way. His opponent was able to turn and block his swing, managing to strike Stan once in the chest. It hardly hurt, but he was a little impressed. The kid was learning.

The con man's fist whipped out and struck his foe's abdomen, winding him. A quick one-two punch sent him to the concrete floor of the cellar. His opponent rolled over, and Stan placed a tennis shoe against his challenger's chest. The kid began struggling against the weight applied, but from his expression he knew that he had just fucked up.

"You got cocky," Stan informed with a smile. Had he been wearing his brass knuckles right now, as well as actually trying, the teen would be a bloody mess by now. "Next time maybe don't."

Dipper grunted, shifting a moment before giving up. "Alright. You win."

Stan removed his foot and offered a hand. The teen gladly took it and brushed a hand against his chest in hopes of soothing the residual pain. "Did you have to apply that much pressure?"

Stan chuckled. "In a real fight, you don't get no one going easy on you. I told you that I would be doing likewise when you asked for my help."

Dipper bent to do more warm ups and it occurred to Stan, that he had looked just as awkward and sweaty in a jumper as his nephew currently did. "I know," Dipper insisted, removing his helmet. "But in boxing, how many times is someone going to actually step on me?"

Stan shrugged. "You'd be surprised."

Dipper sat down on the bench. "Yeah…I just…I don't think I'm athletic enough for this yet."

Stan sat down beside him. "Hey, you're already better than you were half an hour ago kid. All you need to do is practice your punches…you see that punching bag over there?"

Dipper followed Stan's finger and nodded.

"If you practice every day, a hundred punches on it, with the boxing gloves, mind you, we don't want to break your fingers, _yet_ , then I guarantee that your punches will get more impressive. Heck, with luck...some day you'll be better than me."

Dipper glanced Stan's way. "Are you serious?"

"Serious as a heart attack," Stan answered as he handed Dipper a towel and brought a bottle of water to his lips.

 ** [0]**

Shower. Dress. McGucket of all people reminds him to straighten his tie. Maybe he should eat more vitamins, get his memory in order. Keeping fit only got you so far, hadn't Carla said something like that?

She lived for those medical studies. Ironic that he couldn't remember the various facts which she mentioned over dinner regarding mental and physical health. Of course, she had been hinting to have his brother placed in the loony bin.

Greet the morning crowd, give them the rigmarole. Make spooky noises, circle The Shack. Tell the crowd that Mabel is the reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian princess. Everyone laughs but her, make a mental not to ask what the issue is.

Make a second mental not to check up on the Chun's. If that little brat spilled the beans than she's going to have more to worry about than her parent's connections.

Dipper's putting herbs on the windows; he says that's going to protect their household. He doesn't say what they need protecting from.

The second crowd blurs by, while the third is mostly kids. "Keep your fingers where they belong or they might get bitten off" becomes his second sentence on greeting them.

Lunch break, five minutes to reapply deodorant and swap out his sundown red tie for a dark blue one. He eats in the kitchen, as none of his game shows are on the TV today. McGucket is in the middle of working on the sink when he calls Dipper "Tate" when asking for him to pass him a screw. Dipper looks haunted by the words, and Stan has to wonder why. The kid hasn't been the same since visiting the lake.

Stan passes the screw to McGucket, kneeling beside him to offer any other assistance.

The fourth crowd asks about the government agents which were rumored to be in the area. Stan had to struggle not to growl at their mention. "Oh yeah, they've been seen monitoring the skies for unidentified flying objects."

Tricks of the trade; "Unidentified flying objects" sounds more convincing than "UFO" as "UFO" has come to mean "flying saucers." Also, "unidentified flying objects" could be anything from classified air force projects to angels.

Dinner time, then out the front door to visit "the bar." As he watched McGucket buckle himself in, he wondered if he was forgetting something. Sighing, he drove to the cavern and stepped out to find that he had a larger turnout than usual.

The rich clustered together in this dank tunnel, many offended that they had to share air with one another. McGucket handed him the suitcase, and he cracked open with a grin, showing off the merchandise.

"Let's start the bidding at five hundred thousand, shall we?"

Immediately, a man from Japan stood up, speaking tersely. "Eight-hundred thousand."

Stan was about to take the bidding when it was doubled by an oil tycoon from Texas. "I'll give you sixteen hundred thousand." The man bit into his cigar as he said this, with a fierce look. He wasn't going to lose to any foreigner.

Stan cracked a smile. The bidding was already going well.

 **[0]**

Two hours later, he was sitting in _his_ booth at the Greasy Ladle, McGucket beside him. He gave Susan the usual smile and called for the usual. McGucket asked for a blueberry pie, as always, and received a sympathetic look from Susan when he did not look up from his hands.

She brought them both their meals within ten minutes, and he tipped her well. Stan knew that he shouldn't get so close to her, she did, after all, remind him of Carla. However, he already kept McGucket around, who effectively acted as a substitute for his own brother's company.

As he headed out of the diner, patting his stomach, he noticed a man fiddling with folding camera skulking outside. He recognized the man and sent Fiddleford to the car.

"Hey, buddy!"

The man looked up and his eyes flashed purple. _"Well, hello there Pines."_

Stan cracked his knuckles. "You're the guy who's been taking pictures of my niece, right? Selling them to that bastard Gideon?"

The man grinned, revealing his triangular teeth. He stepped back and reached into his pocket. _"That's right. What are you gonna do about it old man?"_

Stan smirked. "I'm going to bust that enchanted piece of junk of yours and send you packing."

The man leaped forward, whipping out a carving knife. Stan sidestepped him, stabbing his foot into the man's stomach and sending him to the pavement. The man scrambled to grab his knife, but Stan just hoisted him into the air with his right hand and removed a pistol with his other one.

He cocked the pistol against his foe's forehead. "You know, for a goblin, you're pretty stupid."

The man's skin peeled off, to reveal a slimy brown-green beneath. He kicked and squirmed to no avail, Stan straightening his gun.

"Silver bullets aren't as hard to come by as you might think, you piece of scum."

The goblin raised his clawed hands into the air, each finger long than his face. _"Alright, alright, I'll leave. You can have my camera! I'll show you how to use it, I'll never come back! I swear it! On my word as a child of the old world! Please!"_

Stan took a deep breath. "You know…your begging really is pitiful…and you don't seem like such a bad guy."  
The goblin nodded his hairless, round skull.

"Unfortunately, if I let you live then Gideon will just hire someone else to stalk my niece."

 _"No! Wait! Please! I-"_

Stan didn't even wince. He had done this too many times, that the bang of the gun going off and the smell of the explosion had become two of his best friends.

He left the body in a ditch by the road. He burned the film inside the camera with his lighter and stepped on the camera itself. As he drove home, he was consumed by the itching desire to just run Gideon over. No one messed with his family like that son of a bitch attempted to.

Relaxing his tired bones into the seat, he drove down the same road which he had a thousand times before. And as he drove, windows open, spirit growing as weary as his body, his eyes began to droop.

McGucket cried out. "There's a man in the road!"

Stan's eyes popped open and the headlights fell upon an extremely tall man in a coat. Stan hit the brakes but it was too late. He would strike the man at thirty miles an hour and the car would flip as he wasn't moving faster enough to move the body more than a couple of inches before it hit the asphalt.

But there was no collision, no horrible screeching sound as the car turned over. Instead, the man, as thin as a pine tree, vanished. He took one step forward and Stan's gaze met with the demon's huge, unblinking eye just before he was gone.

There was only one message in that eye.

 _I'm going to tear you limb from limb._

Stan's car screeched to a halt and he was left staring out into the darkness, his body shaking.

"St-St-Stanford? A-are you alright?"

It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. He had watched the demon in question die, he had seen the flash of energy. This couldn't be happening.

Shaking, he hit the gas and roared home, heart still pumping. When McGucket asked again if he was okay, Stan snapped at his friend, causing the mechanic to become melancholy and silent. That felt a little bad, but he had too much to worry about at the moment to keep Fids' emotions in mind.

He felt like hitting the bottle as he entered The Shack, but his migraine was made worse when he heard the sounds of fists meeting leather. He entered the cellar, and found Dipper, with gauze wrapped around his knuckles leaning against the punching bag, shirtless body coated in sweat.

The teen looked ready to vomit. Stan had not seen eyes as dark with exhaustion as the ones which met his with a mixture of desperation and surprise.

"Kid, you need to get to bed." He said as he approached.

Dipper shook his head. "Can't…I'll just have the same nightmare…over and over…and over…I can't…I…"

Stan picked him up, and unwrapped his fists, sighing at the sight of the blood which caked to Dipper's knuckles.

"I…"

Stan hushed him and carried him upstairs. He laid him down on his bed and returned a few moments with a stool, a vase of flowers, and a cup of water. Dipper stared at him in confusion but didn't object when he lay the vase down beside his bed.

"The smell of something fresh will affect your dreams," Stan explained as he sat down on the stool. "Now take this."

Dipper stared at the pills and the cup of water. "What's that going to do?"

"Make you less stressed. Now take it."

The teen did so without further prodding. "How do you know this stuff?" Dipper asked, staring at the ceiling.

"Doesn't matter."

Dipper exhaled. Stan followed Dipper's eyes to his sleeping sister but sat next to the boy until Dipper had finally fallen asleep.

Then he picked up the glass of unfinished water and brought it, along with his stool downstairs. He collapsed onto the same sagging cot which he had for the past forty-two years. As his eyes closed, he heard a whispering laugh.

 **[0]**

Stan awoke in the back of a limousine.

The window which he'd been lying his head against was hot to the touch, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that there were hundreds of people on the sidewalk. They all held signs, and most were chanting something he could not decipher from his place in the back seat. The driver tapped his fingers against the wheel along to "Ziggy Stardust."

Glancing around, he realized that Mabel sat beside him. Except she was four, maybe five years older and holding a clipboard. She still chewed on her pencil but was muttering something about data. She was dressed in a skirt and sweater like always, but now had a pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose, which reminded him of the glasses which his brother only wore when reading.

A Bluetooth earpiece clung to her left ear, and she nodded along to the information given. She also had the tired look which most adults did. It was sad just to see that level of fatigue in her.

She noticed that he was awake and cracked a smile. "Oh good, your jet lag wore off. So, Gleeful isn't very strong on the Latino vote, hell, he's about as white as you can get. Meanwhile, Norwood is definitely weak on the female vote, especially given the recent harassment debacle."

Stan frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Look, you can slack off and watch TV when we are at the hotel. But right now, we're about five minutes from the opening statements. Maybe you think that you winning elections is easy peasy, but my job is on the line, so if you could just focus on the points I've given you, that'd be great."

Stan was at a loss for words.

He coughed and was about to speak when they parked. Mabel popped open the door and Stan stepped out, Mabel following and closing the door behind her. As soon as he did, the con man was struck with the words of the chanting.

The crowd repeated "DON'T BUY PINES LIES!" over and over again, many of the individuals making it up red-faced at his existence. Dozens of reporters ran up to him, yelling all about different subjects. Their cameras were blinding as their microphones were annoying to have shoved in the face.

A man in a black suit stepped beside Stan and began jostling the "journalists" to move aside and allow Stan inside the building. Up ahead was a door, an escape from the chanting and the questions he didn't know the answers to.

He bolted forward, managing to get in the door before anyone could corner him. He caught his breath as a man and a woman sat him down and began applying make-up to his face.

Mabel stooped beside him. "Nice job there, leaving me to the hounds."

"That wasn't my intention." He managed to get out.

"Cut the bullshit. Yeah, you might be able to fool every single person in that crowd out there, but you were _never_ good at lying to the ones you love. Heh, well, the ones who you _loved_. I think it's pretty clear that I'm not in the former category."

She turned away, and he felt a rage grow in his chest. She didn't have the right to judge him, she didn't know what he had been through, what he had done.

"Hey! I don't have to take crap from anyo-"

When he stood, Stan found that Mabel had disappeared.

"STAN! Man, oh man, are you looking good!"

He turned and found McGucket punching him lightly in the arm. The man was forty years younger and wearing sunglasses that made him look ridiculous. "You are gonna kill out there, just stick to the script, okay? No more going off subject like last time, kay bro?"

Stan blinked. "I don't have a-"

It was then he realized that he was holding a script, and, as far as he knew, he had been holding it this entire time.

"Ooh, that's the sound of the candidates entering the stage. You best skedaddle out there Pines!" McGucket shooed him to the red curtains, removing a lollipop from his mouth and then biting off the candy bit.

"But I don't-"

"Good luck!" McGucket shoved him through the curtains, and he stumbled out onto the stage, his eyes making contact with his audience. The thousands of seats were all full of dead bodies. The stench itself was unbearable.

An electronic buzz caught his attention and he realized that the movie cameras focused on him were unmanned. They moved by themselves, jerking about and zooming in on him with every step. Making his way to the only open podium, he assessed the only other living humans in the theater.

First and foremost, Gideon Gleeful, nine years of age and grinning wide, stood atop the dead bodies of an obese man and a frail woman to reach his microphone. In his left hand, he held a Barbie-esque doll, which resembled Mabel. All of the doll's clothes had been removed, and Gideon waved it towards him, sneering at his confusion and rage.

Beyond him, Preston Norwood was untying and re-tying his tie, smirking at Stan's attention. He was one sky blue suit, which was so blood-stained that it looked blacker. He did not appear to be physically injured in the least, in fact, the total opposite.

On his shoulder, a golden parakeet jumped about, squawking and chirping every three seconds. A shackle chained its left leg to his marriage ring.

The only other alive human beings were the question askers, who sat a table on the floor between the "audience" and the stage. It was Tobias Towner and Sandra Cali, both gawking with soulless eyes. Tobias had a giant metal wind-up key embedded in his back, while Sandra was topless but wearing a couple nipple clips.

Tobias jumped to life as soon as Stan grew confused, winding up and speaking with jerky mechanical movements and an unshrinking smile. "Welcome, Candidates! I enjoy it, I enjoy it very much. First question; do you believe that those who commit rape should be subject to castration for their grievances?"

Stan was about to ask why it was assumed that all rapists were men, but Gideon leaped to give America his opinion.

"I believe that the fault lies in what has become of our country. Instead of following the Christian morals which the Founding Father's intended, we allow the Jews and the atheists to tell us what is and isn't moral. The result is deviation and perversion of the most dangerous kind…rape, shootings, molestation, and all this political corruption. If we as a society do not return to the Christian, family values which made this country so great, then we will surely be consumed by the twisted values of the Satanists and socialists."

The sound of clapping went off from a speaker somewhere. It sounded about as real as the laughter found in Sitcoms. It occurred neither to Sandra nor Tobias that Gideon had not answered the question.

Preston adjusted his microphone. "As a father, I am frequently afraid that such acts might corrupt my daughter. I want the best for her, and as such, I have become committed to the idea that we must destroy the rape culture which allows these monsters to continue living. Sure, we can slaughter those who perpetrate or attempt, but there will always be more unless we strike the source of the issue. It is clear that the world is ruined by corrupt men, who seek only to subject women so they may remain in control. But we must hunt down these men, we must make a spectacle of their death. And we must, obviously, do the same to anyone who protects them by rejecting our values. That's the only way we will ever move onto a bright future."

More canned laughter. The parakeet looked desperate to escape its master and tugged at the chain to (of course) no avail. Stan gave Preston a look of utter disgust. The guy went through hookers like most people go through toothpaste, he gave as much of a shit about women's rights as the demon worshipping Gideon did about forming a god-fearing utopia.

Both of them disgusted him, but what made his stomach crawl was the fact that he was up here on the stage with them. He was just like them. The embodiment of egocentricity; he was a person who "looked out for number one" by smashing out the teeth of anyone who cut him off on the intersection. Selfish, dumb as bricks, insecure, unwilling to be happy, unable to be content.

Gideon moved from place to place, ruining communities with every new trip. But he never stuck around. Preston had at least done something for the town, although he was obligated given his "condition." Fids had breathed new life into the town, if through some rather appalling means.

Stan was a curse. He was something which the town would never recover from. His life had been a series of missteps, and everyone he touched got pulled into bearing the consequences.

Sandra addressed Stan, the bad cop to Tobias's toy enthusiasm. "And your answer Mr. Pines?"

Stan glanced down at the script. His eyes almost escaped his skull in shock.

The script read as follows;

 _"TOBIAS: Welcome Candidates! I enjoy it, I enjoy it very much. First question; do you believe that those who commit rape should be subject to castration for their grievances?"_

 _GIDEON: I believe that the fault lies in what has become of our country. Instead of following the Christian morals which the Founding Father's intended, we allow the Jews and the atheists to tell us what is and isn't moral. The result is deviation and perversion of the most dangerous kind…rape, shootings, molestation, and all this political corruption. If we as a society do not return to the Christian, family values which made this country so great, then we will surely be consumed by the twisted values of the Satanists and socialists._

 _AUDIENCE: *APPLAUD*_

 _PRESTON: As a father, I am frequently afraid that such acts might corrupt my daughter. I want the best for her, and as such, I have become committed to the idea that we must destroy the rape culture which allows these monsters to continue living. Sure, we can slaughter those who perpetrate or attempt, but there will always be more unless we strike the source of the issue. It is clear that the world is ruined by corrupt men, who seek only to subject women so they may remain in control. But we must hunt down these men, we must make a spectacle of their death. And we must, obviously, do the same to anyone who protects them by rejecting our values. That's the only way we will ever move onto a bright future._

 _AUDIENCE: *APPLAUD*_

 _SANDRA: And your answer Mr. Pines?_

 _STAN: I'm against it."_

He looked up and realized that all of them were leaning towards him for confirmation. The teenager in him flared up, demanding that he agree with the absurd statements if nothing than to show the piece of paper that it did not govern his actions. He licked his lips, throat suddenly rather dry.

"I'm against it."

There was a recorded murmur running through the audience and Tobias bounced to then next question. "Second question: If someone created organized crime and brainwashed dozens of innocent citizens in the name of an ideological zeal which borders on insanity, would you still feel sympathetic for them and consider them your best friend?"

"Certainly not!"

"Of course not!"

They all turned their eyes back to Stan. But he was paying them any attention. There was a man in a golden suit beckoning him to the emergency exit door.

"Mr. Pines?"

He returned his attention to Tobias. "Uh, can you repeat the question?"

Recorded laughter went off and Sandra took the next one. "Eleventy-fifth question; if a horrible epidemic spread across the world, would you close off all travel in and out of the country and begin executing victims?"

Gideon and Preston jumped on top of one another trying to answer this question, eventually breaking into a screaming fit. Preston lunged at Gideon, who, in return, snapped off the Mabel Doll's head and dug the revealed knife into the rich man's chest.

As Preston bled out, his parakeet tearing at his ear in an attempt to cause his demise to come quicker, Gideon wiped sweat from his brow and addressed America with a sickening smile.

"I would drop atomic bombs on residential areas which were infected." He declared with the tone of someone promising to water your plants for you while you're on vacation, while staring dead on, blood still dripping from his hands.  
Stan wasn't paying the stage any attention, however. He was tired of this dream, he wanted out of the absurdism of the situation. So he followed the yellow footprints left in the red carpet and slipped out the front door.

The crowd was gone, as was the whole world. Only dust existed for as far as the eye could see. Stan found that his legs were sinking into the dust and fought against its pull, wiggling and kicking as it attempted to consume him. He held his breath when it reached his neck and everything began to go dark.

A crack of thunder awoke him.

He sat alone in the cabin of a ship, a map layout before him, with only a compass and sextant to keep the map from falling off of the desk due to the rocking of the vessel beneath him. Saltwater dripped through the ceiling and splashed against the creaking boards. Thunder bellowed outside.

He had just noticed the number of bottles in the room when the cabin doors tore open. Firstmate Corduroy bolted over to his desk, her dark emerald eyes holding his blurry gaze. "SIR! Now is not the time to indulge!" She tore the bottle from his hands and tossed it into a corner. The smashing of glass sobered him slightly, though not so much the intensity of her eyes and the strength of her voice. "We need you at the wheel, the squall is too powerful for us to fight on our own."

He pushed himself to his feet, realizing that he must be drunk for how the word staggered beneath his normally seaworthy feet. Firstmate Corduroy doubled back out the doors, Stan following at a loss for breath.

As he stepped out onto the deck, he discovered that rogue waves tossed them up and down, sending the crew gasping for breath. The rain was cold as ice, the wind biting. The spray of the sea made sure that the only thing he could taste was salt.

Lightning tore through the sky, sending electricity scattered across the shifting sea. It lit up the deck and allowed him to see his crew's staggering.

All celestial bodies were blocked from view by clouds as black as pitch. Everyone on board was struggling to keep standing, let alone continue doing their jobs. On the blackened shore, he could see dozens of bonfires set ablaze.

No doubt, the Cape of Good Hope was offering them funeral pyres (or at least something pretty to look at before they were all dragged to a watery grave). As he made this observation, the ship bucked and he was tossed head first towards the wheel. He managed to hold his balance and he grabbed the wheel, it supporting his movements than he did its.

Another crack of thunder. The dragons were breathing tonight, the gods were angry. Now was not the time to play captain out by the beach. Now was the time to step up, or die a coward.

He'd sworn he'd take this ship around the Cape, he didn't know to who he'd promised this. But he knew that he had. And a Pines always kept their promise.

He clasped the wheel, fighting against nature herself to keep the ship on the correct course. Corduroy screamed at the crew, about ready to fire off her pistol just to get them moving. Stan was unsure even that would get some of them to cease their praying and do something useful.

He called out to them, thunder striking as he did. "STOP FLAPPING YOUR LIPS AND CROSSING YOUR FINGERS! WE'RE TOO FAR SOUTH FOR GOD TO HEAR YOU ANYWAY."

That seemed to get them working, although many claimed he had doomed them with such talk. It didn't matter. Their voyage was the only thing which mattered, the voyage and the cargo.

Speaking of cargo, he glanced to the front of the ship and saw that his nephew and niece stood there, hand in hand, waiting to be taken by the waves. He gestured and Second mate McGucket pulled them to a position of relative safety.

Once left alone, the twins raised their heads to him and grinned, both still in their night dresses, both still too young to be taken by a sailor's death. There was something wrong with their eyes, he knew that. Yet, just like he could not place who he had made that promise to, he found himself at a loss when trying to account for the details.

The wheel creaked beneath him, the wind demanding that he let go, just as the sea demanded that turn the ship around or else crash it against the cost rather than complete his journey.

McGucket was cast into the sea when a wave struck which nearly toppled the boat. Corduroy ran up to him, screaming into the gale. "SIR! WE MUST TURN AROUND! WE'LL ALL PERISH IF WE DON'T!"

He ignored her and she rushed him, trying to seize control of the ship.

"TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF THE WHEEL THIS INSTANT! THAT IS AN ORDER!" He snarled, her hands still grappling for control.

She removed her pistol. "I can't allow you to kill us all, sir!"

Seeing the gun made him go from man to animal. He grabbed her neck and lifted her up, up into the howling storm. She dropped the pistol and tore at his hands, gasping for breath.

If Stan had snarled before, then now he bellowed louder than the crackling thunder herself or the havoc of the colliding waves. _"BY DAMNATION, IF I HAVE TO SELL MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL HIMSELF, I WILL GET THIS FUCKING SHIP AROUND THIS FUCKING COVE! AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU WILL BE DOING TO STOP ME!"_

With this proclamation, he flung his first mate at the mast and watched as her skull split against the groaning wood. She hit the deck, her blood mixing with the sliding water. It was then, when Stan looked up from her cold dead eyes, that he saw the cause of his misery. The twins grinned up at him, the whites of their eyes having turned a pale yellow as their pupil stared at him like those of a snake.

They spoke in unison as a beast the size of a mountain rose out of the water. Its eye, as long as the horizon and tall enough to block out the sky, loomed over his vessel. It had a yellow and blue iris, while its pupil was black and red. Tentacles half a mile long squirmed to either side of the eye, creating waves by mere contact with the water.

The pupil opened, flesh pulling aside to reveal a gaping maw of wriggling teeth. The twins gave him one last wave, before diving headfirst off the port bow and into the maw. As his ship was consumed by the beast, a voice on unquantifiable proportions blocked out all else.

 ** _"EVERY CAPTAIN GOES DOWN WITH THE SHIP, RIGHT PINES?"_**

Stan shot awake, his body coated in sweat. It was only after he ceased panting, that he realized that he had shouted. It took him longer to realize that The Shack, Mabel, and Dipper, were all in the past. He was not lying in the cot which he had for so many years. He was sitting awake on a king sized mattress.

"Honey? Are you alright?"

He glanced to the source of the voice and discovered that his wife lay beside him. Thirty-something at this point, just like him, but still beautiful. He lay back down.

"I just had a nightmare, that's all. Sorry for scaring you."

She turned towards him and smiled, leaning into his shirt. "No, it's fine." After a moment, she grew a mischievous look. "Hey, since we're awake and the kids won't be up for another hour…do you wanna…?"

He smirked and sat back up. "Sure. Let me hit the bathroom first."

She rolled her eyes. "Darling, you sure know how to kill the mood."

He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll find a way to resurrect the mood when I get back."

"Hurry back." She called, snuggling into her pillow.

As Stan walked down the hall to the bathroom, it all returned to him. The Machine had worked perfectly, everything was wonderful. His brother was currently the owner of a multi-million dollar company. McGucket had recovered his full memory. Dipper and Mabel were happy, but most of all, safe and alive.

As he whizzed, he thought about his three children down the hall. Marcy, Fiddleford (Fids for short), and Daniel. Sweet, intelligent, and quick on their feet, just like their old man. As he washed his hands, he considered kissing them each on the head before returning to his wife.

But those thoughts were dashed from his mind when he heard a cry of pain come from the kitchen. Frowning, he returned to the bedroom to grab the gun and warn Sheila. But she was gone. The blankets looked like they hadn't ever been disturbed either.

His gun remained right where he remembered it. He loaded it and stalked into the hall. "Shelia? Daniel? Who's there?"

A screeching laughter was his only response and he entered the kitchen to find Dipper, still, fifteen bent over the sink. He flipped the switch and discovered that the boy was covered in bloody sigils.

Dipper laughed in that way that only _he_ did, and winked at Stan with one yellow eye. Then he flipped on the garbage disposal and jammed his hand into it. The possessed teen continued to grin at Stan and maintain eye contact with him, as horrible noises escaped the garbage disposal and turned Stan's stomach.

"Morning sleepyhead," Bill said as tears, brought on by pain but not by any melancholy, pooled around the eyes which no longer belonged to Dipper.

Stan rushed him, slamming him to the floor and trying to ignore the bloody stump which had once been Dipper's hand. "You bastard! Get out of him!"

"Get out of _who_? What are you talking about?" Bill grinned coyly.

"Stop it right now you son of a bitch. What did you do with my family? Where are they?"

Bill giggled. "I don't know _what_ you're talking about! Please stop strangling me."

Stan thrashed him against the kitchen tiles. "NO! TELL ME WHAT YOU DID YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!"

Bill outright laughed now, struggling to speak. "You're acting crazy Stan, I haven't done anything."

Stan, seething, turned off the safety on his gun and aimed it at the temple of the monster. "You've got three seconds you piece of shit, one…two…thr-"

"GET OFF HIM! GET OFF OF HIM NOW!"

A hand closed around his neck, and he reeled backward, his revolver firing a hole in the ceiling. He hit the tile floor and found Mabel jumping on his chest. She wrenched the pistol from him and threw it to the floor next to her still laughing, still possessed brother.

"Mabel, what are you doing? He'll kill us both!" Stan insisted, not desiring to hurt the girl but refusing to die at the hands of his most abhorrent foe.

Her eyes grew wet. "What is wrong with you? He's your nephew, he never did anything to you!"

Hearing her voice crack sobered him a little and he looked back to Bill's new host, only to find Dipper, with two fully intact arms and a throat colored in bruises. He had no sigils carved into his skin, in fact, aside from the bandages on his fingers and knuckles, there was no trace of blood on him.

The laughter distorted and came back to Stan as wheezing for breath. Dipper looked up at him with tears in his eyes, still wheezing and now inching away from him.

Stan stood up. "Kid, I didn't mean to-"

Mabel grabbed the gun and pointed it at his chest. "OUT. NOW! LEAVE US ALONE! I-I don't know if you're on drugs or-or if you have some kind of mental problem but you…" She was crying now too, struggling to keep her vision on him. "…you have to leave us alone. J-just leave us alone…or I'll call the police…"

Stan held up his hands, unable to do anything other than mutter apologies. He watched Mabel fall to her knees, still dressed in only a nightie while her brother was in a fresh pair of clothes. She brought Dipper to his feet, bringing him to the bathroom, to the medical kit. She cast one last fearful and rage filled look Stan's way, before focusing on Dipper's whimpering and saying things like "it's okay, your safe now" and "I won't let him hurt you."

Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, Stan felt the whispers returning to him.

 **Nice work Crescent, you really are good at butchery. Not so much the social interaction, but man, if you hadn't lost your cool and shouted, little ShootingStar wouldn't have come to PineTree's rescue. He'd be dead as a dormouse. HA! Now that's a funny thought.**

Stan twitched. He grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled down a quick note. Then, he grabbed the keys and bolted out the back door.

 **[0]**

Dipper winced as Mabel's hands applied a compression bandage to his neck, but still tried to speak. "Mabel, I don't think Stan was strangling me on purpose?"

"Well, he wasn't possessed, Dipper. It takes that ritual you did on me to get your body back and he realized what he was doing without any of that."

Dipper took a couple deep breaths. "But Mabel…his eyes were half-closed as he did it and he was slurring his words…I think he was partly OW! Partly asleep…"

She sighed and looked up at him. "Dipper I…there's something which I've been meaning to tell you…and uh, it's about Stan."

He sat up, brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Mabel averted her eyes. "See, Candy…during the night of the summer harvest, she saw Stan and McGucket carrying a…a dead body into the basement."

Dipper swallowed and lay back down. "When were you planning on telling me this?"

"I was going to tell you yesterday…and umm, the day before that…I didn't…I didn't think that he would strangle you Dipper. I just thought that he had some…unsavory activities."

Dipper remained silent and Mabel, terrified of his emotionless expression returned to wrapping the bandages. Finally, right when she felt like begging him for forgiveness, he spoke.

"Mabel, when he was strangling me…he was asking me where his _family_ was…I think he thought I was someone else…"

Mabel shook her head. "No, he called you my brother."

"But he thought that I could kill him and you, he thought that I had done something. Mabel, yesterday…I was reading about Demons and this…this is the type of thing they do to people's minds. They make you think you're doing one thing when really you're doing something else."

Mabel stood up. "Dipper, I don't think-"

"Please…just check on him. If I'm wrong, then you can call the police and mom and dad…but I need to know first. If there's anything I've learned from this town it's that people are not what you expect them to be."

She sighed. "Fine. Now I'm going to call Candy and Brenda over to look after you, alright?"

He nodded and waited for her to get to the door. "You're not lying to me right now, are you?"

The question was not posed with rage, hatred, or even far. Instead, it led only with the kind of politeness which was punishing.

"No. I am not lying." She claimed, before closing the door behind herself.

 **[0]**

Stan was standing in a line in a boggy room. Which reminded him of the DMV. A man thirty years his senior stood in front of him, and in front of him a pregnant woman who was holding a toddler. Behind him was a teenage boy in a wheelchair.

He tapped the old man on the shoulder and asked what they were waiting for. The man gave him a snarl of a look.

The toddler began wailing.

"If you don't have a reason to be here then stop holding up the line." The man rasped, his wrinkled face intimidating despite the fact that Stan probably could have snapped him over his knee if he'd desired to.

The pregnant woman hushed the toddler and the line moved forward.

Turing away from the man's scornful expression, Stan peered to the front of the line. There was a large booth, with only an electronic eye and a speakerphone to connect the people in the lien and the person in the booth. The line moved again and Stan was able to hear the crackling voice of the speaker.

 _"LEFT!"_ It commanded, sending a blind woman down the left of the two hallways, into the same dark tunnel which the last person had been sent.

The pregnant mother reached the booth. You could cut the tension with a knife as the electronic eye examined her.

 _"LEFT!"_ The voice repeated.

Nodding, the mother hushed her toddler again as he began to cry. She reminded Stan of someone, but he could not place her face. As she disappeared into the tunnel, the toddler's voice disappeared and the moans of going into labor echoed out. Stan wanted to exit the line, to dash down the left tunnel to solve the problem.

The ancient man hobbled up to the electronic eye and Stan realized that he was holding up the line, before stumbling forwards.

 _"LEFT!"_

Stan wasn't exactly surprised. The elder in front of him, however, went red in the face.

"You can't do this!" He screeched. "You can't do this to people!"

Out of nowhere two men dressed in black leather, S&M suits appeared and grabbed the old man. They brought him, kicking and screaming, then gasping for breath as he was struck by cardiac arrest, into the left tunnel. Stan felt a shiver run down his spine when the bloodcurdling scream of someone who had just met their end, escaped the tunnel.

 _"NEXT!"_ The voice commanded.

Stan blinked and was pushed by the boy in the wheelchair forward. He almost struck the wall of the booth and straightened his tie.

 _"…RIGHT!"_

Stan blinked, surprised and relieved. He turned towards the right-side tunnel, only feeling guilty when he felt all the eyes of the people in line follow him into the tunnel. The tunnel was just as dark as the right, with the floor and walls made of something squishy yet firm. It was wet and hot within the tunnel, and he had to trail a hand across the warm right-side wall to make sure that he did not walk off a cliff.

His hand brushed across of hardwood and a call came from behind the door.

"COME IN! I'm almost finished."  
Stan glanced at the shadow which continued into the tunnel. Then he lowered his hand to knob height and opened the door.

Inside was a therapist's office, albeit a particularly strange one. The lamp's light was green with yellow stripes, and the room was lit by a single window, from which gray light entered. Moths danced around the wilting tree in the corner, which leaned over the edge of its pot. Its near-dead branches invaded the darkness beneath the scuffed up sofa. The room was stuffy yet damp, the walls peeling and sweating from the humidity.

Sitting in an armchair, was a therapist with no face. He finished speaking with the massive frog in his hand (something about "brown bread") and sent it on its way. It hopped between Stan's legs and disappeared down the tunnel with a few slimy hops.

"Sit down, Mr. Pines." The therapist gestured to the sofa, and Stan complied, sitting down.

His head landed on a Kashmir throw pillow. The therapist pulled a quilt cobbled together of animal hides wrapped around his legs and then retreated to his seat.

"Now Mr. Pines, if you could name one thing about yourself which you would like to change, what would that thing be?"

The featureless therapist tilted his head as he said this. Or at least, Stan assumed that the therapist was he, based on the voice and body structure. How he spoke without a mouth should have nagged him more, but it did not. The "man" was wearing a brown suit and khakis, his black dress shoes folded on the coffee table while his hands gripped a cigar and a clipboard.

Stan stared at the blood crusted carpet, ignoring the spray-painted corpse outline. "I don't know when to quit." He admitted eyes focused on the cracks which spidered out across the ceiling.

"And why do you think that is?"

Stan let out a sigh. "I guess because…I've never had it that great…so I've always wanted it better and I think that if I just try hard enough then it will get better."

 **"Hmm, it's a real shame that it never will get any better, isn't it?"**

Stan raised his vision at the screechy voice and found the therapist melting, his flesh coming off in gobs. Standing behind him was a man dressed in a gold jacket with a fedora which was tipped so far forward and flanked by such tall collar, that his face disappeared from view.

"Cipher..." Stan muttered as he stood, inching towards the door.

 **"Ah-ah-ah!"** The man waggled a finger and the door seeped into the wall, disappearing from existence. He stepped between Stan and where the door had once been and chuckled darkly. **"You're not getting out of this that easily."**

The man stepped forward and cracked his neck, literally snapping the bone in the process and causing the hat to topple off. Stan's brother stared at him with golden eyes. He was just like Stan remembered him as nineteen, young but still with a simple wisdom to him. The glimmer that had been in his eyes, however, was gone. It was replaced by a dull rage which would never be quenched.

When he moved his lips, only for the demon's voice to come out, still unnervingly joyful but with hate underlying every syllable. **"You did this to me CrescentMoon. You banished me. Now you're going to pay."**

He darted forward, one arm swinging. Stan ducked the clawed hand and charged at the room's only window, arms in front of his face. He'd been too tired to take off his suit last night, so it protected him for the most part. Glass sprayed everywhere as he toppled into a vast, muddy river. The water was cold enough to send him into pure adrenaline mode. Struggling against the current, he grabbed a log and held on tight. Bill watched him from the window, flashing a serial killer smile and waving with one bloody hand.

Stan tried to understand how the demon could consider his escape a good thing before he heard the crunch of twigs and turned to see something on the bank of the river. It was tall and black, and holding a hatchet in one hand. A hatchet which dripped blood.

He swam faster than ever, making it to the opposite shore of the creature and dashing into the underbrush. He weaved between the ash trees, all of them peering back at him with blue eyes and sickle-shaped pupils. He ignored them. His eyes were focused o the ground before him, as though at any moment a bear trap might spring up and bite off his ankle.

There was movement behind him, the creature clambering up out of the water. It must be one of Bill's minions, he thought. Sent to chop off one leg or both and drag him back to the demon.

His heart was pumping dangerously fast. He skidded to halt beside a large stone and sat down to assess the situation and calm himself. He could hear cars passing, the road must be nearby. Bill couldn't get him in town, not when he was surrounded by civilization and bright lights and lots of coffee to keep you up late into the night.

Another crunch of needles, this time, accompanied by a call.

 _"STAN? Come out…I just want to talk…"_

If that thing thought he was going to give himself up, it was stupider than the tourists he was forced to deal with on a daily basis. His stomach turned as he could feel its presence growing closer. He could just see its silhouette from this position, its empty white eyes contrasting to its charred husk as they searched for him. Its arms extended out, each slim and absurdly long. Those arms were made to swing a hatchet.

He jumped into a run and heard it call after him. He continued running, only stopped when Mother Nature snagged his ankle with a root and his face collided with a pile of leaves. Clutching his foot in pain, he forced himself to a stand and limped towards a large tree.

 _Stop crying. Do you think the world is gonna quit calling you names because your crying? Do you think girls are going to take pity on you? No. They'll laugh. So get your ass up and get back up there and beat the shit out of that boy. You make sure that they never hurt you again by giving them something to fear. So you go up there and beat the shit out of that boy or else you and your brother can say goodbye to supper tonight._

Stan winced at the memory of his father and took a deep breath. Then, despite the pain, he sprinted forward. He was making fairly good pace until he slipped on a wet stone and his chin collided with a rock.

As the pain seeped into him, Mabel fell to his side, inspecting his injuries. She placed an arm under his and lifted him slightly.

"C'mon, you're too heavy for me to carry you home by myself."

She sounded distant, distant enough that he should have been able to go to sleep without worry. But he knew that if he went to sleep now, he might never wake up.

 _Stop crying_.

He forced his legs to work properly and leaned on her for support. She drew him between a couple of trees and towards the road. His vision grew more and more blurry as he realized just how little he'd actually slept last night. She slid him into the passenger seat of his car and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Don't worry…Dipper is going to have a plan…he always does."

 **[0]**

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Brenda had just left the room to get some snacks from the machine, leaving Candy alone with Dipper. Up until this point, he had been focused on drawing a strange circle (in chalk) on the living room floor.

She swallowed, knowing that he would ask this from the moment that Mabel requested her help. "Mabel told me not to."

Dipper nodded. "But why didn't you tell us when we were together? Why did you wait so long?"

"H-how do you know how long it was?"

He didn't answer her question. "If I found out a family member of yours was involved in illegal activities…I would tell you. And I barely know you, but I would do that for anyone…" He looked up from the chalk to shift a resentful gaze on her. "…because that's what decent human beings do…they don't keep secrets from one another."

She folded her arms. "Then you don't have any secrets?"

Dipper smirked. "I never said that I was a decent human being."

Brenda returned and asked Candy something which she didn't hear due to being distracted. "Hey? You okay?"

Candy turned and nodded. Brenda, somewhat unbelieving leaned forward and raised an eyebrow as she spoke. "Did I miss something?"

Candy shook her head. "No. I am fine."

Dipper began jerking the chalk across the wood with a concentration born mostly of frustration. Brenda placed an arm on Candy's shoulder and found her warm blue eyes drawing the truth out of her. How could she be dishonest to the person who had saved her multiple times?

"Really…what's the problem?"

Candy sighed. "Dipper was just asking me why I didn't tell him about what his uncle did."

Brenda nodded with understanding and cast an annoyed look towards the injured teen. "Okay." She drew Candy closer to her and kissed her in the hair. "Don't lie to me alright. I'm can't help you if I don't know what the problem is."

She nodded and apologized as the front door opened.

"Brenda? Can I have your help? I can't carry him any further."

Smirking at the sight of Mabel trying to lug Stan up the stairs, Brenda dashed off to be of assistance. Candy glanced at Dipper, who had just finished in creating the chalk circle. He stood up and dusted himself off, ignoring her presence and strolling into the front.

She followed him down the hall and into the front, where he offered to carry Stan's head rather than Mabel. Mabel tried to object, but it was clear that she was exhausted from getting him this far and chasing him around in the woods.

Dipper kept his eyes focused on how pale and sickly Stan had become, not needed to pay attention to his surroundings to maneuver Stan to the living room. When they finally lay him down, Dipper came to his side, somewhat hesitant but with a determined look on his face.

Dipper lifted Stan's eyelids and revealed the streak of blue which ran around his brown irises. He turned back to them. "I was correct…he is possessed." With that statement, he began laying out candles.

Brenda placed her hands on her hips. "So…what now?" She asked, watching Dipper's almost frantic arrangement.

"We go to sleep in this circle to enter the psychic plane and remove the demon which is attacking his mind."

Brenda folded her arms. "Really? After he threatened to lock Candy up and strangled you? If you ask me, he deserves whatever the demon is putting him through."  
Dipper did not look up from laying out the candles. "If we leave him alone in the psychic plane with the demon, his mind will be destroyed. He'll become homicidal."

Mabel shrugged. "We could just…you know, turn him over to the police."

Dipper stood up. "Listen, this is not a vote, okay? I'm not going to allow my uncle to go crazy. I'm going into the dreamscape…if you don't want to help then fine, I'll go alone. I need someone to wake me up in case the demon attacks me, anyway. But unless one of you is hiding something else-" Mabel rubbed her arm and Brenda grew unamused. "-then I am the only person who knows what it is like to have someone inside your head, I'm not going to allow it to happen to him any longer."

He sat down cross-legged and continued his rationalization. "We don't know why he threatened Candy or what he was doing with that body…if he doesn't have satisfactory answers, _then_ we call the police."

He had just closed his eyes when Mabel sat down beside him. She cast a half-hearted smile his way and he smiled back.

Brenda sighed. "I guess I might as well." She turned to Candy. "You'll wake me up in case anything goes wrong, right?"

Candy shook her head. "I don't…I do not want you to enter that…dream-place…it…it could be dangerous."

Brenda smirked. "I do dangerous shit on a regular basis. Besides, it's not like we can die…we're just going to sleep." She leaned forward, kissing Candy on the cheek and turning back to the circle.

Candy watched her go with baited breath and continued to watch as Dipper recited the necessary words. He did so as, with matches he lit the candles. He caught her gaze and instructed her to turn off all the lights in the house. When she returned from this rather strange task, the smoke created by the candles made even her feel sleepy. The three of them looked about ready to fall over.

Dipper continued to recite, despite his drooping eyelids. She wondered how he could have memorized this incantation in so little time.

Mabel was the first to fall asleep. Then Brenda. Finally, Dipper fell forward and snored lightly. As he did, the chalk began to glow bright blue and sparks of white extended from the candles. A shiver ran down her spine when Stan began foaming at the mouth and muttering, his eyes peeled open and his body moving in painful and unnatural ways.

She stared at Mabel, who had curled up a lot like a cat, and tried to imagine what she was facing at this moment.

 **[0]**

Nothing. Mabel was staring at absolute nothing.

It was completely black in all directions. She was unsure if she was standing or floating given that gravity did not seem to apply to this place. There was no sound, only absolute, crushing, white noise.

A hand touched her shoulder and she grew relieved. The loneliness was gone. She could not see Dipper in the least, as this place lacked any kind of light. But could identify him by the sound of his breath alone.

As she turned his way, a streak of light tore through reality just behind her. Neon white rays streamed past her peripheral vision, and illuminated Dipper, causing his eyes to contract and for him to protect is eyes with his hands. She could see Brenda, who was also shielding her face, and who must have been at least a dozen feet away.

All the darkness was sapped out of the world, and her feet struck wet sand. She waited for Dipper to uncover his face and to regain his balance before turning towards the light's origination point. There was so sun, instead, the light just hung in the clouds.

"BRENDA!" Dipper sounded like a drill sergeant and Mabel turned to find him tugging Brenda in her direction. She looked disoriented, to say the least. "If we don't stay together then we will get lost. The second plane will be augmented by our presence, and the demon will take advantage of that. If we don't stay together it will distract and trap us."

She blinked out her surprise and yanked her hand free. "And how would you know?"

Dipper took a moment to calm himself. "Because I read about this repeatedly…"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not going to hold hands with you…if you don't want us to split up then just don't drag your feet." The burly girl tread past the exceedingly ticked off Dipper, grabbing Mabel's hand and marching forward.

Mabel glanced back and forth. "W-where are we going?"

They were surrounded by nothing but wet sand for miles. Occasionally a slope might invade her vision, but the closest thing to a structure she could see were some dried coral. Slowly, ashen mountains came into being on the furthest horizon, cast massive shadows across the sand.

Mabel came to the conclusion that this was what the bottom of the ocean would look like if all the water disappeared, and that thought made her feel startlingly small.

Brenda gave her a look bordering on annoyance and pointed dead ahead. Mabel followed her finger and saw the massive circus some mile and a half away. Its tents were dark red and the beams meant to advertise were bright green.

Dipper marched to them and slowed his gait to keep beside them. Mabel noticed that he was keeping his eyes on the circus, his gaze refusing to waver.

"What do you think a demon looks like?" Brenda asked as she passed Mabel, almost reading her train of thought.

Mabel had to jog to keep up with the taller girl, although she was finding that this place was either hot enough to make her sweat or cold enough to make her shiver. "Um, well, I only ever saw one picture of one…it looked like a cloud with a bunch of eyes and teeth."

Brenda frowned. "And how can we defeat a cloud?"

Dipper spoke with barely concealed ire. "We can't."

Brenda narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, 'we can't'?"

He did not look up, but still avoided the rocks which littered the sand. "This is a subconscious demon. Beating it in a subconscious would be like beating a sky spirit while parachuting. We don't 'beat it', we just reach the deepest level of Stan's subconscious. That will wake up the most primal aspects of his mental state and force the demon out."

Mabel felt like she was trapped between a snarling wolf and a passive tiger when Brenda grew even more pissed. "How do you know all of this? A lot of this sounds like a load of bullshit."

Dipper jerked his face up and gave an unnerving smile, like a clown dealing with a petulant child. "Because I spent _hours_ reading about this. If I need information about lifting weights, I'll be sure to trust any information _you_ give."

Now Brenda looked ready to punch him. Mabel coughed. "L-look guys, we're here! Ummm, m-maybe we should focus on uh, how we get to the lowest level of Stan's-uh-"

Mabel coughed. "L-look guys, we're here! Ummm, m-maybe we should focus on uh, how we get to the lowest level of Stan's-uh-"

"Subconscious."

"Right-right it uh, how do we-"

Dipper stepped just inside. "According to the Journal's section on the psychic plane, it should be an obsidian door. That will bring us to the second level, where our own psyches will start to affect the area. There should be another obsidian door which leads to the final level…which umm, should be the most abstract."

Mabel grinned. "Great. Um, Brenda, we'll catch up with you."

Both Dipper and Brenda looked confused by this statement and Dipper was about to object when Mabel gave him "the look." He sighed and watched Brenda enter the empty carnival.

Mabel took his arm as soon as Brenda was out of earshot and brought him about five feet away from the entry way. "What is your problem?!"

He stared at her like she wasn't actually there. "I don't know what you are referring to."

Mabel took a deep breath. "I understand if you hate me…or Candy right now. But Brenda…she risked her life to save you after spending about five seconds in your presence. So could you please just…apologize for acting like a dick? If our minds are actually effecting this…place…then isn't it a good idea to make sure that no one is stressed out."

He looked ready to say something (I'm always going to be stressed out Mabel, nothing you can say or do will change that), but stopped himself. "Fine."

He jerked his arm out of her grip and stalked inside the theme park.

Mabel inhaled and exhaled before following him in.

 **[0]**

Brenda had to admit, this place was freaking her out.

The circus was full of freaks and clowns, all speaking in raspy or else booming voices which made their words incomprehensible. They all ignored her presence, too busy laughing in the most uproarious fashion and herding the families and stray children towards the largest of the three tents.

She could see their hands drop to investigate loose wallets and unguarded purses as they laughed hideously. They were dressed everyone, from the "entertainers" to the ticket buyers, were dressed like something out of the nineteen fifties. The men and woman were all in atomic family suits and modest dresses, while the members of were done up in white, black, and red costumes.

Balloons of Stan floated overhead, all grinning. Staring at them, Brenda noticed that storm clouds had sunk into the sky, although they seemed more distant than usual.

On a small platform, just in front of the entrance three animatronic versions of Stan performed a hauntingly out of tune cabaret melody, one at the piano, one with an accordion, and one with a banjo.

She was half way to the big tent in the center of the mess she heard Dipper's call.

She turned and met his gaze with a stale expression. "Oh, what is it now?"

Dipper took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for acting the way I did, you didn't do anything to me. I've just…every time I think that things might get better…they always get worse. And I…I am becoming really sick of that. But that's not your fault, and I shouldn't be letting it get the best of me."

Brenda sighed. "Well, I'm sorry if I snapped at you…I…can relate to the things always getting worse bit."

He smiled and she folded her arms. As Mabel caught up with them, she asked. "So how do we find this door?"

Brenda pointed and explained. "Everyone is heading for that tent."

Dipper nodded. "Well, if their out of our way, we should check everything else first."

The other tents proved to lack any obsidian doors, which, made sense given that they were _tents_ (although Brenda expected this world to be much more surreal than it was turning out to be). As it drizzled, they exchanged looks and marched towards the tent. Dipper was about to find a way to sneak in, but a strong man (complete with a leopard skin unitard) came up behind them and started muttering something about them being "late."

"Don't worry," He assured, as his hands grasped their shoulders, his hand's goliath. "The Boss won't be mad at you for being tardy."

Brenda cast a worried glance to Dipper, who gave her a look which spelled out "just go along with this." She did so, despite how unnatural it felt to be following orders. The man hurried them inside and Brenda's eyes had to adjust to the warm darkness of the tent.

"Keep movin', keep movin'. Boss is up ahead."

They complied, and Brenda found herself before Stan Pines, dressed in ringleader garb. His assistants gathered around him, practically madmen in how they gibbered and giggled, relying on him for all sanity. He was thirty, maybe forty years younger than Stan and had a gleam in his eyes which the man who had threatened her girlfriend lacked. His nose and cheeks were also different in coloration from the actual Stan. A red top hat adorned his head.

"Names Stetson, I hope you kids are enjoying the circus!" Dipper and Mabel stared at him with a mixture of unease and surprise. He continued, a little put off by their expressions. "The show is almost over so you kids oughta head to a seat." He said in a voice far less raspy than Stan's.

"Uh, Boss? All the seats are already full." The strong man mentioned dejectedly.

"Stetson" gave a half-hearted "darn it all" and it occurred to her that unlike everything else in this place, he was actually jovial rather than fake and unclean. He smiled as an idea popped into his brain. "Hey! You guys can watch from the rafters! Yeah, we've got some seats up there for me and my friends when we want the best possible view. Brutus, take 'em to the ladder!"

Brenda cast a look at Dipper as they were herded towards the massive ladder at the top of the audience rows.

"What _is_ he?" She asked, glancing back down to the man to find him speaking with two men in matching purple leotards.

Dipper answered her question before she could complete it. "He's a facet of Stan's personality given a form and mind of his own by the fluidity of the psychic plane. As far as he's concerned, his name _is_ Stetson. He _is_ real…" Dipper paused and glanced around. "I suppose all of this is real to him as well."

Brenda didn't like that thought. Thoughts like that brought up all kind of philosophical questions about the nature of reality, and she had never been a fan of philosophy. Immutable facts had always been her forte. If you hit hard enough in the jaw, they are knocked unconscious. If you do something spectacular, the media will pay attention to you.

Until not long ago, the world had consisted only of immutable fact.

The strong man guided them up a wooden ladder and to three specially designed seats. Each had a velvet cushion atop a metal frame, with carvings glimmering in the light of the torches which rose above the crowd and the swinging spotlights.

She sat down on the end seat, leaving Mabel with the middle one and Dipper with the aisle (not that there was much of an aisle to speak of). They watched as the "fantastic Mansard Twins" performed death-defying trapeze antics, as a lion was trotted out, thrashed with a whip (causing Mabel great distress), and as the second to last act (a man roasting a frozen chicken by breathing fire) went off without a hitch, Brenda leaned towards Dipper.

"Can you see the door?" She asked in a whisper, well aware that the strong man lurked just beside the ladder and might be able to hear them despite the rapid applause.

"No, have you see anywhere it might be?"

She shook her head.

He grimaced and spoke in a cautionary tone. "We should head out then."

Just as they began to step up, a beam landed on them. Blinded, Brenda was unable to see much more than Stetson's ringleader hat when they stared down at the ring. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE SOME VICTIMS, WHOOPS, I MEAN 'VOLUNTEERS' FROM THE CROWD! GIVE THEM A BIG HAND!"

As the massive audience clapped, Brenda became unable to see and unable to hear her own voice. The muscly individual was back, but this time, they were not going with him. Dipper grabbed Mabel's hand and gestured for Brenda to follow as he darted down the rafter area. Brenda kicked the man in the stomach, buying them a minute or two, before darting after the twins.

They skid to a halt at a dead end, with the only form of continuing to move across the steel beam which extended over the crowd and to the scaffolding on the other side of the tent. The trapeze hung from the metal structure.

Dipper's eyes winded and he gestured to something for Mabel, before climbing onto the beam. She gave Brenda the same gesture and followed suit.

At first, Brenda thought they had both gone mad, or else were being tricked by the demon. Then she followed Dipper's gaze and saw the black trap door built into the scaffolding on the other side.

The strong man staggered to his feet, and Brenda jumped onto the beam, put off balance by her own impatience. She followed Dipper and Mabel across the beam, becoming a touch dizzy from their height. She took a deep breath and increased her speed, only slowing when she heard the strong man climb aboard the beam.

Turning, she snarled at him, before realizing that there was someone climbing up the ladder on the other side. "We gotta move faster…" she muttered.

"WE HAVE TO MOVE FASTER!" Both twins turned in time for her to race forward, grabbing Mabel by the hip and carrying her towards the skittering Dipper.

He managed to jump onto the scaffolding, and Brenda followed him, her knees aching as she struck the creaking wood. She had just let go of Mabel and caught her breath when a fire breather and the Mansard brothers climbed up the ladder. Dipper tore open the trap door and his expression turned from strain to horror.

The trap door flipped over, transforming into a broken top hat. From beneath the top hat rose a seven-foot tall creature, with four arms, a triangular head, and one paralyzing, abominable eye. Screeching, identical laughter filled the air and Brenda turned to see that it came from the mouths of the audience, but also from the stagehand and the fire breather.

But as well it rose from the pit of her own mind. They didn't struggle, not her, not Mabel, and not Dipper. There was no place to go, no escape at this junction. To struggle was to waste energy that she knew from the aura of _wrongness_ which the demon emitted.

 _"AHAHAHAHA! **AHAHAHAHAHA!** " _The demon buckled over in laughter as ropes were loosed around their hands. He turned to look directly at them. _"It's amusing how feeble-minded you are."_

 **[0]**

Robbie aimed his gun at the snide bastard's head.

Gideon had just finished talking with an obese, bald man in overalls, and was now dotting his forehead with his handkerchief. He was totally unaware that thirty feet away, Robbie lay crouched atop a rock, his revolver pointed at Gideon's skull. The teen's finger ran along the trigger, and for the millionth time he hesitated.

 _C'mon, just get it over with. He wouldn't think twice._

But wasn't it possible to keep the man from creating the havoc which Cathy described, without killing him? Just the other day, he had come exceedingly close to shooting Dipper over mistaking Gideon's destiny for Dipper's. And when that weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he had realized that he really, _really_ didn't want to kill anybody.

 _No. There is no chickening out here. No one will miss this guy, you will be doing the world a favor._ Mabel had told him what this individual was capable of in child form, of the murder he had already committed and the murder he had attempted multiple times now against her and her brother.

He took a deep breath, watching as Gideon removed his cell phone and held it to his ear. He was about to pull the trigger when his phone buzzed with a call. Frowning, the teen reached into his pocket and flipped on the phone. He would have dismissed it had it been anyone but the twins.

But it was Mabel. In fact, he had missed several calls.

"Hello?" He asked, a little bit relieved for the distraction.

 _"Mr. Valentino? I…I Candy, good friend of Mabel's…and there is problem I need your assistance."_

Gideon moved behind a tree. Dammit.

"What problem?"

 _"W-well, I'm at the M-Mystery Shack…um, Mabel, Dipper, a-and my girlfriend are all umm, they went into dream world to fight um, demon…and they no wake up. P-please, I-"_

"Wait, demon?"

Gideon stepped into his trailer.

 _"Yes, th-they were-"_

Robbie jumped to his feet, hoping that he wasn't too late. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

What had Dipper said about demons? Well, Robbie had brought him the candles and the special chalk, but Dipper had told him to keep some of the other items "just in case." It sounded like this was "the case", although, as he climbed into his car, Robbie tried to ignore the mounting sensation of being too late.

 **[0]**

 _"Nice work, Stet. Your men did well!"_

Dipper watched as the demon patted Stetson on the shoulder. The ring leader cast a guilty look Dipper's way.

"Is it necessary to lock them up like this, Bill? Their just kids." Stetson asked, sounding like a child asking for his pop's approval.

The demon giggled. _"Of course, it is. You just keep to your playtime, I'll handle these guys. Besides…"_ His triangular head turned to focus on the cage which the three of them had been placed in. _"…I'm not gonna hurt them_ that _much."_

Stetson winced at the joke but did nothing as Bill strode over to the cage.

He addressed them with the cadence of a sheriff catching them drinking. _"Now, as for you three…"_ He leaned on the cage, inspecting his own bandaged arm. _"…I'm afraid I'm going to have to traumatize you beyond recovery. It's nothing personal, but anyone who comes between me and Crescent is going to_ suffer the consequences _."_

Dipper glared up at him. "You're a demon, why do you need Gideon anyway?"

Bill leaned down. _"My, my, my, aren't you just the little detective? Were you hoping to stall me for a plan or do you genuinely want to know?"_ Dipper looked away, unable to stare into that eye much longer. It was giving him a headache ironically enough. _"Now you're not answering_ my _questions? Didn't your parents ever teach you manners? Heh, well, I hate to admit it…"_ Bill stood up, ruffling his bitten jacket collar. _"…but out of the two of us, I think you've changed the most…PineTree."  
_ Dipper's breath caught and he looked up, his discomfort turning to anger. "Y-you're the one who's been invading my thoughts!"

The demon was not paying attention. He was watching as a couple men wheeled out something large and rectangular, with a piece of canvas thrown over it. Bill turned and bent to address Brenda.

 _"Now you, you shouldn't even be here."_

Brenda sniffed. "Speak for yourself."

Bill chuckled. _"Touché. But at least I know that I'm an appalling creature capitalizing on the fear and ambition of human souls. I'm not playing a part."_

Brenda managed to quell her fear for a moment. "I'm not anything like you-!"

 **"Don't raise your voice with me young lady."** His eye turned blood red, light pouring forth and singing against Brenda's skin. The front part of his body melted through the bars so that his head could be inches from hers. **"Aw man, I can see every drop of blood which you've spilled, every time you finger yourself to the thought. Every cent you've spent abusing your own body. Pathetic. At least I don't trick myself into thinking that I'm some moralistic champion, while using someone with low self-esteem for affection."**

Brenda kept her eyes on the bars at her feet, trying to ignore the magnitude of his voice, the hotness against her skin.

 _"What? No witty rebuttal? Come on, I expected that you would at least try to punch me, like the big bad girl that you are."_

No response.

 _"I'm almost let down."_

Dipper glanced at Brenda, noting the sharpness of her breath as Bill removed his body from the cage and sat down just outside the far left corner. Mabel, who was curled up in the corner of the cage, didn't not look up as his eye inspected her. Instinctually, Dipper wanted to move between his sister and the demon. He knew, however, that

 _"Unlike your bro-bro,_ you _haven't altered in the_ slightest, _ShootingStar."_ He sniffed the air, despite lacking a nose. _"You smell just the same after all these years."_

Mabel raised her gaze and spoke with a bit of an emptiness to her voice. "We've never met before. Wait, what did you call me?" She too grew frustrated with his antics.

Bill giggled again. _"Is it lying if the person believes it? If a Pinus lambertiana falls in the forest, and no one is paying attention does anyone hear it?"_ He turned away and jumped onto the platform as he laughed at his own joke. It was only once he had recovered, that he continued, no longer speaking to them but reminiscing as though he were a good friend. spoke. _"You know what Six-Fingers used to say; '_ **Your own beliefs are your biggest enemy.'** _But that's what I loved about the old panda, he always could condense the most multilayered considerations into enough words to fit on a fortune cookie."_

"You knew The Author..." Dipper said more to himself than Bill.

If the demon had heard him, he ignored him. Instead, Bill yanked the canvas off, revealing the obsidian door.

Bill addressed Stetson. _"Sorry about this, buddy old pal, but I can't have the Scooby gang addling me while I'm rescinding sanity."_

He snapped his fingers and Stetson reeled in pain, as blue energy coursed around him and his assistants. Stetson looked up and met Bill's amused expression.

The ringleader spoke with pain coursing through every syllable. "But…I…did as you asked."

 _"Yes, but you are just a trustworthy aspect of an overall hostile personality. Whether I use you as a weapon now or later doesn't really matter."_

Stetson was about to protest but fell over with an agonized screech. Dipper watched, wondering if the rest of Stan could feel this. Bill giggled like a school girl as muscles rippled across the personality facets, their skin shredding, and their bones shifting and twisting. Stetson's teeth grew too large for their mouths and his hands became massive and deformed. He made choking noises as claws expanded from his fingers and he dug them into his skull.

 _"You may wish to cover your orbs for this next bit, kiddies."_ Bill taunted as he directed his attention back to the cage.

Brenda looked away, while Mabel closed her eyes and held her head between her knees like she used to do during thunderstorms. Neither were able to cover their ears due to the rope constraining their wrists, so they were forced to listen to the screeches of the abominations Bill was creating. Both refused, however, to bear witness to such a horrible act.

Dipper, on the other hand, was unable to turn away. He knew that these were not real people, but as some kind of psychic energy, they must have had some semblance of a personality. Was this part of Bill's attempt to destroy Stan's mind? Or did he do this just for kicks?

He watched as their bones snapped and were re-infused. Hair sprouted up everywhere and Bill's victims fell to all fours. Stetson gazed back at Dipper with a tear-filled, catlike eye, before his skin was shredded and replaced by a new one coated in course dusty fur.

Stetson roared, a massive Bengal tiger with the eyes which made his deafening roar twice as terrifying in their intensity. The strong man turned into a lion, the fire-breather into a cougar, and the twins into a couple of jaguars, one black, one gold.

Bill paused as he opened the obsidian door. His head turned completely around and glowed blue. _"By the way, did PineTree mention that the pain you feel in this place is exactly equal to what you would feel in the physical plane?"_

Brenda and Mabel's eyes widened.

 _"No? Guess he didn't consider it imperative. Toodles!"_

He slammed the door closed and cracks infested it, azure sparks springing forth from each fissure. As the big cats approached their cage, all hungry, the sparks exploded into flame and the doors gleam began to wane. The audience clapped as the lion slammed a paw against the cage.

Mabel sat up. "You said that this wasn't dangerous."

Dipper kicked the tiger in the nose, causing it to reel back with a growl. For a brief moment it stared at him, and he thought that he could see Stan, the real Stan, lurking behind its eyes. Then the beast turned away.

"I never said that!" He insisted as he turned Mabel's way.

Brenda grabbed him by the collar. "But you implied it, you brought us in here to save some piece of shit and you didn't even explain the basics to us. You knew this was going to happen!"

"Let go of me."

A cougar leaped atop the cage and managed to slash Brenda's head. She reeled in pain and cursed to all hell.

"That's it, I'm out. This is fucked up enough as is, I'm just going to get Candy to wake me up." She decided, Mabel still deathly quiet.

Dipper took a deep breath. "I'm sorry alright…but I can't…Stan saved my life. H-he was teaching me how to box. He doesn't deserve to have his mind torn up a-and his b-body forced to do s-something it d-doesn't w-want to."

The cage was tipped over and they all struck the metal. Dipper crouched and cast a look towards Mabel. "I already allowed one of my family members to be possessed, I can't allow it to happen again. But I…there needs to be three people to stay in the mental plane…"

Brenda stared at the jaguar which pawed just out of reach of her face. "How are we going to get out of this cage then?"

Dipper looked around and found that Mabel was pointing to something. He looked up and found that Stetson, still a tiger, but with a strange intelligence to those scintillating black eyes, stood atop the cage. Better than intelligence, there was a denial, an unwillingness to fall in line. He was tearing at the lock, grunting as the metal strained against the pressure placed on it.

"He wants to help us." She said with a distance to her voice.

Brenda squirmed out of her ropes and began working on Dipper's. He decided to postpone asking her how she knew how to do that until after they had made it through the door. The door lock brock and Dipper helped Mabel up onto the top of the cage before Brenda did likewise for him. As Stetson swiped and roared to keep the other cats away, he assisted Brenda in climbing out of the cage.

The three of them turned and stared at the burning door. Dipper took a deep breath, before jumping down and charging at the door. He heard Brenda and Mabel followed after them, and could hear the growl of the jaguar bound at them.

Stetson slammed down on the jaguar, biting into its neck and drawing blood. Dipper was so stunned that Mabel had to grab his hand and drag him inside the door.

He was standing all alone in an underground tunnel, waist deep in filth. The obsidian door collapsed behind him, its rubble splashing in the soiled water and sending droplets of water against the back of his legs.

There was no going back.

* * *

 _ **Just so you guys know, I have few political (or ideological) convictions. But I find anyone who uses the pain of others to further their own careers to be disgusting.**_

* * *

 **Message: Tihs ot og ot tuoba era sgniht.**

 **Comments and questions!**

 _Keeper of Words:_

 _My real question now, how in the lord's name did you design that version of dear old Sweetdreams (aka Bill Cipher, the Twisted One, the Dream Demon, the Dealer, and whatever other warped titled he has)? It's a glorious and fearful form and I'm both impressed and a bit creeped out by it, to say the least. Your skills at imagery are GOOD._

 ** _I looked at a bunch of fan art designs, eventually deciding that Bill would be creepiest if he looked more human but had a shatter/damaged vibe to him (which plays into this version of him and what Stan did to him). The extra arms also make him even more alien. The eye, of course, is the creepiest bit about him, so I made that the least human and most bulbous. I'm glad that it was scary! I was worried that I built him up too much to pull off the scary look._**

 _Situation71:_

 _Once again, you've outdone yourself. The whole Robbie situation was amazing, the Wendy backstory was moving, and literally your story is off the charts good. I can't wait for more! You need to write stories for a living my nigga, really A-1._

 ** _It is my dream to be a published author, so you made my day. :D_**

 _From Coldblue:_

 _Questions_

 _1) Will we get Pacifica Norwood thoughts/feelings about Mable and Dipper Pines?_

 ** _A lot of her views regarding them is already implied. Her character is going to become very integral in the next season._**

 _2) Any chance that Dipper, Mable or the Twins will actually stumble upon the Alien Space Ship/Technology in "Depravity Falls" like "Gravity Falls" cannon?_

 ** _Yes._**

 _3) Are the Pine Twins and Pacifica going to gather Candy, Brenda, and Robbie to prevent/stop Demon's influence on them?_

 ** _As you can see, we are getting closer to our climactic fight._**

 _4) Are some people of Gravity Falls slightly happier or thankful that Pine Twins stop or involved in the crazy Supernatural/Dangers things that happen in their town? Possible view them as heroes or enemies?_

 ** _The townsfolk are hesitant to trust anyone who survives the weird shit they've been dealing with since the town was founded. However, as shown, people like Tobias and Susan care about their wellbeing (to an extent)._**

 _6) Will Dipper study Gideon Gleeful Journal and discover something interesting about the Journals? Like how their schematics to The Machine or pieces of Knowledge he was Missing?_

 ** _Remember, Gideon found that book back in the 19th century. It was created before creating The Machine was technologically feasible. That said, Dipper will probably be studying it. Thank you for reminding me about that._**

 _7) Do you have a plan for Brenda background story in Gravity Falls to explore her character a bit? Was she born there or her family have roots in Magic being possible a descendant of Druids and ended up in Gravity Falls because the Supernatural?_

 ** _She has a story arch._**

 _Suggestions_

 _1) It just would be interesting to read another perspective from Pacifica Norwood. Her mission was to get Dipper Pines, so she befriended Mable to get to Dipper. That of course, got Dipper to interfere and watch out for Mable because Pacifica and what she represents to him: bad news._

 _Pacifica is sort okay friends with Mable. I mean, Mable Pines and Pacifica Norwood don't use each other and just sort of accept each other personalities, even though they have issues. Mable does not like how Pacifica is pushy and most likely dislikes how Pacifica treats some people like Candy. Pacifica probably dislikes how Mable seems positive, happy, caring brother and no care in the world that Pacifica wished she truly had. Dipper and Pacifica have this interesting challenging relationship. They challenge each other and they don't want to admit, but they have similarities. Pacifica has issues with her parents and having to live up to her image because the Norwood name/family. Dipper has issues with his parents and dealing with how people act around each other be superficial. I could read Dipper and Pacifica possible have hormone/sexual tension with each other, but romance is up in the air._

 ** _Just so you know, I'm not a big fan of Dipper/Pacifica and (in this story) I do not believe it would give off the psychological aspects which I desire._**

 _2) God the aliens! I can't believe I did not bring them up. I kind of hope Dipper and Mable find alien weapons to battle Bill Cipher and his Demon allies. Kind seems bad ass and interesting to read. Still, it would be great if Dipper and Mable actually did have a small alien experience. This chapter was okay, BUT Dipper sort of summarized it too quickly and seem to be only his experience. I felt that "Gravity Falls" should have had Dipper and Mable experience that moment, but we got a bonding moment with Grunkle Stanford and Dipper. Maybe the Pine Twins saves some Aliens from Agents and manage to get the Aliens off Earth. Maybe they find a spaceship under the Valley of Gravity Falls that they discover Alien Tech and Fossilized/Dead bodies. Just throwing those ideas out there. I could read an Alien Space Shift making a good Bunker/End the World safe house._

 ** _I really want to make the alien ship happen, but I can't make any promises._**


	13. S1, E11: Nightmare to reality

_**Would you guys mind telling me if I ever mentioned Stan's Mother's name? Just leave your answer in a review or PM me, I just want to make sure I leave no inconsistencies (tell me as well if I ever wrote down Tambry's last name and I'll correct its mention).**_

* * *

 **Episode 11: Nightmare to reality**

* * *

 _"Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you." –John Irving_

* * *

When he parked in front of the house, Robbie discovered that Candy was on the porch already, beckoning him inside. Mabel had told him about her in one of their many calls (she was insistent they keep in touch, and he was happy not to argue).

According to the brunette, she was extremely smart and very kind, but very awkward and "troubled." Considering the people Mabel kept company with, he was not the least bit surprised about the latter descriptor. Hell, Dipper had taught him a number of spell techniques and seemed like an overall good guy, but even he seemed a little _too_ into the concept of demons yanking the teeth out from your mouth.

He had to ask for Candy for her help in getting all the supplies from his car inside, for although he was slowly getting used to his lack of left hand, the constant inconvenience was grating, to say the least. She seemed hesitant to leave the building as if something might happen to Mabel or her girlfriend if she did but eventually relented.

When all the necessary items were assembled, she finally showed him the living room, and he understood why she had not wanted to leave them alone. Mabel, Dipper, Stan, and "Brenda", were all unconscious. Stan's eyes were open, allowing Robbie to see the glowing strands of blue which had infected the sclera of both his eyes, but his snoring indicated sleep. His nephew and niece, however, had their eyes closed, along with their friend. This allowed the blue strands to glow against their eyelids.

Robbie glanced at Candy. She looked ready to fall to pieces.

He cleared his throat. "I need to make a quick phone call, but I swear, the moment I'm done, I'll help you wake them up, alright?"

Candy shook her head. "Th-they could be torture right now. There's demon in with them, wh-what if it f-finds them!?"

Robbie sighed. "Look; I'll help, after I make this phone call, understood?"

She swallowed and nodded shrinking back into her chair and staring at the floor.

Robbie moved to the kitchen and removed his cell phone, dialing the primary contact. It buzzed for a little while before a message played.

 _"Tambry speaking! If you're hearing this, then I'm can't come to the phone right now. Leave a message after the beep and I'll contact you as soon as I can!"_

Robbie twitched. He couldn't remember the last time that she hadn't had her phone on her.

"Hey, it's Robbie…uh…just, something weird is happening and I want to make sure that you're okay so just umm, call me as soon as you can."

There was something wrong. There had to be. Demons don't just get summoned into the world and only attack one person. No, it must have hurt her, or done something which created a chain of effect which hurt her. He needed to check on her.

Candy peeked out of the living room, not wanting to ask if he was done, but clearly panicked. Mabel had been there for him in the hospital. He couldn't leave her with the _actual_ demon, he just couldn't.

Besides, Tambry would be able to take care of herself (he hoped).

"Okay, explain the situation to me."

Candy launched into it, stumbling over her own words. "Mr. Pines attack Dipper but he think demon is reason so spell. Mr. Pines mind enter and Brenda go with them because I scared and me to wake up in case something go wrong but ten minutes I could and so I get Mabel's phone and call you."

Robbie bit his lip. He felt like asking her for a slower explanation, but considering how frantic she appeared, he got the idea that wasting time would only make her unravel faster. Still, he had to run this by her again.

"So, Stan asked for them to enter his mind-"

"No! Please just wake them!"

Robbie held up his arms. "Okay, okay, I will. But you need to calm down alright. You're not going to help anybody if you're in hysterics, alright?"

She sniffed and nodded. Her eyes were red but there was still some resolve in them.

Robbie turned back towards the three teens. As he bent to test their breathing and to make sure that none of the "marks" Dipper had mentioned were on their skin, he wondered what it was they were experiencing.

 **[0]**

Dipper waded through the muck, trying not to hyperventilate. _It's just a dream, it's just a dream, and you can't contract diseases in a dream._

Still, the mixture around his waist looked and smelt so awful, that he held his breath and shut his eyes, stumbling in the only direction which the sewer tunnel allowed. The squeak of rats ( _giant, rabid, bubonic plague carrying rats, festering with boils and desiring to chew your eyes out_ ) resonated behind him, as well as the scrape of their paws against the moss, coated stone.

Finally, the darkness around him was pierced by light, and fresh air reached his nose. He opened his eyes and found that a manhole grate lay above him, opened in the slightest. Metal rungs had been embedded in the stone, although given his height, Dipper had to jump to grab one. Foot by foot he raised himself to the manhole, slipping and striking his knee against the filthy metal twice.

When Dipper reached the top, he shoved the manhole aside and climbed out. His breathing pattern might have been mistaken for that of a half-drowned sailor. As he sat down on the gravelly dust, he got a better look around.

He was in a city, empty by all accounts. It most closely resembled New York (or at least, the New York which he had seen in movies and pictures), but all the skyscrapers were carcasses of their former selves. He was cross-legged in the middle of a massive intersection, albeit one with most of the asphalt broken to bits. Cars which should have gone out of product in the nineteen sixties were parked all up and down the middle stretch of road.

The only sound was the whistling of a familiar tune, which echoed through the ruins and drew his attention. It sounded like Mabel. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. It was, however, his only clue to finding the others and the obsidian door.

He dusted himself off and sprinted off in the direction of the whistling. Pigeons leaped from the earth, their cooing joining the whistling in breaking the silence. Dipper followed the whistling left and came to a blockade of cars. They were piled one atop another, placed in a conscious act of defiance.

Memories of reconnoitering the future version of the town returned to him. It had been as silent as this, and he wondered if the buildings which surrounded him were filled with bodies.

 _They're not real, you need to stay focused._

Mounting the blockade was no real problem, the problem came when he discovered that a pit lay on the other side of the blockade, one about twenty feet deep and ten feet wide. He slid back to the road, and after a brief consideration entered the building to his right. Surely, there was a backdoor which would allow him past the hole.

As it turned out, there was not, only smudges of blood on the tiles and desks. He turned back out of the building, wondering if Bill had somehow split he, Mabel, and Brenda up, if for nothing else than to hunt them individually.

The left side building did, however, offer a back door, which allowed him to cross a dirty alley and make it onto the road beyond the blockade and hole. The whistling grew louder as he drew further down the lane. The whistling felt like it was right beside him as he came to the end of this road, where a massive puddle had accumulated.

He glanced back and forth, trying to discern if the whistling was emitting from one of the windows. Then a head raised out of the three-inch deep puddle.

"Well, hello there. You seem lost."

He lowered his vision, and found that Wendy was staring up at him, her elbows laid on the gravel at his feet. She had scales trailing down from her lack of ears to her jaw. Her hair had seaweed tangled in it, and her eyes were no longer the emerald green of the real world, but instead an aqua color which made him think of natural pools and expansive mangrove swamps.

"Looking for somebody?" She asked, her smirk giving a brief look at the sharp teeth which inhabited her mouth.

When he failed to answer, she flopped onto her back and lay on the surface of the puddle, whistling anew as with one hand, she turned herself in a circle. Her exposed breasts faced the sky as she closed her eyes whistled a little longer. Her legs, each ending in a disturbing fusion of foot and frog-like flipper, kicked to allow her to swim in a circle.

Her waist, just as her breasts, was completely unhidden.

She rolled over and faced him. "Are you gonna gawk all day or answer my question?"

He realized that he had been staring and shook himself. "Yes. Have you seen a-a girl with brown hair and a sweater…she should look a lot like me…she's my twin."

The creature shook its head. "Nope. You've got two questions left."

Dipper blinked and was about to ask why, when he stopped himself. She would probably count that as one of the two questions.

"Have you seen a big, black, glass door?"

She quirked an eyebrow and brushed a bit of hair out of her face. "You mean the obsidian door?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, I've seen it."

He jumped almost too fast to the next question. "Where is it then?"

She pointed at the puddle surrounding her body and then folded her arms. He stared at the water. Removing his shoe and sock, he dipped his foot in. The water was ice cold and far deeper than it appeared, as evidenced by the creature's ability to swim in it and by how he could bring the water up to his knee and still not touch any surface.

Dipper took a few deep breaths. How deep did it go? No, he couldn't die of drowning in this place, but it would hurt like hell to experience it. As well, the door might be too deep for him to ever reach. If he could feel pain, he could fall unconscious.

"I can take you there…if you're willing to give me something in return." She offered, her eyes gleaming.

"I don't have anything..." Dipper replied, feeling himself more and more drawn in by her eyes by the second.

"That's okay..." She said with a shrug, before offering her hand. "We'll call it a favor."

As she said the words, her eyes shined.

 **[0]**

The casino was loud and bright. Not the loud and bright which Brenda had fantasized over while watching cable in the back of the family trailer. Rather, it was the blinding noise designed to overwhelm and squeeze a horrible choice out of you.

She passed through a sea of dingy booths, her eyes glancing between the gangsters who smoked Cubans and drank two-decade old wine like it was water.

"Would you like an aperitif?"

She was startled by the appearance of a cocktail waitress. People could rarely get the drop on her, given how well her reflexes had been taught. She tried not to show the woman just how freaked out both this place and the woman's arrival made her feel.

If you showed them fear they might tear you to bits.

The waitress stood in place like a statue, waiting for Brenda's response with a smug smile and a raised eyebrow which became rather suggestive given her skimpy outfit. One look at her tray sent revulsion crying through her. Each champagne glass was filled with a dark green stew, which smelled of rot.

She held up her hands, ready to push the waitress away if she transformed into some kind of monster. "I'll be fine, thanks."

The waitress stepped closer, her hair turning from blonde to red-brown. She spoke in the sing-song voice of a 2nd-grade bully. "You're going to need it…"

Brenda jerked away, a chill running down her spine. She marched out of the dining area, eyes searching for the next obsidian door. The sound of slots got louder as she drew down a wide, rectangular hall. She passed by a supply closet, from which the door was open only the slightest. It was enough, however, that she could hear it when Mabel cried out.

Opening the door, she found that the supply closest was actually another hall, this one made narrow by the metal shelves. It extended a hundred yards before striking a concrete wall, beside which Mabel was strapped down to a hospital roller. Even from this distance and with her vision lit by the pale light of the sparse hanging lamp fixtures, Brenda could see that Mabel was coated in blood.

She could see that standing over Mabel was a surgeon holding a scalpel and wearing a blood-soaked hospital gown. Brenda charged, her father's words coming to mind. _Momentum is one of the most powerful forces on earth, make sure that your opponent learns that._

The surgeon turned in time to be slammed to the floor. His scalpel struck the concrete, and roaches scattered from within it. Brenda began unbuckling Mabel, keeping one eye on the surgeon as she did so. Mabel looked terrible, her face pale and clammy, her arms quivering. She was dressed in only a hospital gown and appeared to be tied down as though about to give birth.

"Where's Dipper?" She asked as she finally faced Mabel.

"You can't bleed out in a psychic plane, right?" Brenda asked her friend as she examined her injuries.

She felt bad for asking a question to someone in so much pain, but they didn't have much time left. It was clear that Bill was aware of their presence already.

Mabel gave out a breathy moan and slurred her words as she refused to do more than raise her eyelids a little bit. "He's right there silly."

Brenda didn't know what she was talking about until the surgeon stood up and removed his medical mask. It was Dipper, if with several scars trailing down the front of his face. He giggled.

"She's confused, Mabes. She hasn't learned to play yet."

Brenda glanced between them and realized why Mabel was smiling. She was enjoying being stabbed, in fact, if her expression was anything to go by, she was more than enjoying it.

She found it pleasurable.

Mabel finally opened her eyes. "You wanna play then? You're already so good at causing yourself pain…all you've gotta do is give in and it will feel _so_ good…"

From nowhere strode an Asian nurse, cradling a massive needle. The nurse had the brand of what appeared to be a throwing star, just above her voluptuous breasts. The nurse fell to Mabel's side, and licked at the blood stains on her gown a little, before lifting it up, and revealing a mesh of torn stomach and disfigured genitals.

When she raised her head, Brenda recognized the nurse.

She was Candy, albeit a far more matured version of Candy. The nurse drew a finger across her lips as she batted her eyelashes seductively. "Yeah, c'mon honey…it's not so bad…the pain is almost pleasurable after a while…"

Brenda jerked away from the trio of lunatics, finding that the door had vanished, but there was another to her right. She could hear them laughing as she tripped and skinned her knee. They didn't follow, though, unlike the monsters they acted like. They just kept on with that horrible, laughter which was worse than any physical punishment they would be able to impose on her.

She tore open the door and stumbled into a tropical forest. The door, slammed close behind her, leaving her alone with the echoing caws and distant howls.

 **[0]**

Robbie watched the signs of distress twitch across Brenda's face. He turned back to lighting the candles.

According to the book on demons, you could deactivate an entrance to the "psychic plane" via relighting the same candles, repeating the activation words backward, and then cutting all participants on their left thumb. This would not awake Stan, but judging from their expressions, Robbie was fairly sure that the "plan" was not going too well.

The scent of the candles was irritating, he tried not to let it bother him. He had just reached the final candle (Candy helping with the rest) when his phone chimed.

Quickly, he lit the candle and opened his phone, finding that Tambry had sent a text in response to his call.

 _Tambry Jones_ : _Hey, I'm fine. What's the matter?_

He quickly sent back a message, apologizing for worrying.

 _Tambry Jones: Are you scared about those government guys, or something else?_

 _Robbie V.: The two CIA agents, you mean?_

 _Tambry Jones: No. There were several vans of them, rolling through town._

Candy tapped him on the shoulders. "Sh-should I do wounding or-"

He closed his phone, stowing the information away for later.

"No. I'll do the cutting, you just read."

 **[0]**

Dipper stared at the creature's hand, then back up to her irresistible eyes. "A favor…" He repeated, his mind growing blank.

 _You're never going to be back here anyway, so what's the matter?_

The teen extended his hand, her sweet smile growing as he bent to seal the deal. His fingers were almost to hers when he saw her eyelids turn vertical. Dipper tore his hand away, and she growled, her skin peeling back to reveal the demon beneath.

 _"You should have booked that deal, PineTree."_

Dipper turned and ran like hell, his heart pounding as he searched for some escape. A quick look over his shoulder informed him that Bill had just climbed out of the water. He looked forward and skid to a halt when he found that half of the world had dropped out of existence. Where the rest of the city had once been, now there was only void.

The sky as well had been torn up, to reveal nothing but a lack of light.

 _"You can't outpace me PineTree, I govern this place. You said it yourself…"_

Dipper ignored him. He sprinted into the nearest building. There had to be a way out of this, there had to be. The walls were blurring to either side of him, glowing blue and filling the air with heat.

He burst into the stairway, and his eyes jumped between the upstairs and downstairs. Bill's laughter grew louder ad shriller as he approached at a rapid pace. _There's no way out from the roof_ , he convinced himself, before descending into the garage.

As he did, the steps grew wide and longer with every passing one, and the walls grew too far away from him to touch either from his position in the center of the step. He stumbled on the last one, and his chin struck asphalt.

Pushing himself up, he watched as hanging lamps flickered on, revealing a suburban neighborhood which stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Perfect lawns stood in front of each house, the fences all painted white as the fluffy clouds which would have fit the scene.

Dipper turned around and found that the staircase was still there. It was only a matter of time before Bill found him. From house to house he darted, trying to identify his sister, Brenda, or the obsidian door. Only one person needed to enter the final and third plane to revive Stan's control over his own mind and force Bill out.

He stopped when he heard Stan's voice across the street. He bolted across the good as new pavement and heard McGucket responding to how Stan criticized the newspaper. No, not McGucket. Fiddleford, the person who he'd been before his wife died, when his accent had been less noticeable and he didn't stutter nearly as much.

Before his wife and unborn child had died.

Dipper made it to the window and gaped. A twenty-year-old Stan sat at the dining room table, eating ham and eggs, the morning paper in his hands. At the stove, making some more eggs, was McGucket, about the same age and wearing a smirk at Stan's antics.

Stan sighed. "I still say it's a travesty for the Giants to lose to the Yanks."

Fiddleford rolled his eyes. "You're only saying that, because you and Preston had a wager over it, a wager which, may I remind you, I warned you not to make."

Stan gave his best "bah-humbug" and folded up the paper as McGucket slid a couple extra eggs onto his plate. "Thanks a lot, honey."

As he leaned forward to kiss the shorter man on the cheek, a hand, cold yet hot, stony yet spongy, and with a strength immeasurable in physical terms, grabbed the back of Dipper's collar. It tossed him through the window and tore off his shirt in the process.

He collided with the kitchen room table, sending the plates smashing against the kitchen tile. Bill giggled at his groan of pain and seared a hole in the wall.

Stan tried to stand between the demon and Dipper but received a blow strong enough to send him slamming through the wall. Plaster sprayed everywhere, and the kitchen itself began to burn. Bill turned his eye on McGucket, and Dipper looked up in time to watch as the blue fire burned the skin off McGucket's body, leaving behind a charred skeleton.

Smoke alarms went off, their sirens mocking the concept of defense as Bill grabbed Dipper by the hair and lifted him kicking and clawing into the air. _"If you had just ceased this nonsense formerly…none of this agony would be obligatory…now I'm going to have to jettison you from the equation."_

 **[0]**

Mabel was running down a peer. Carousel horses turned, a blur of orange, purple, Easter blue, and firework red. Yellow lights illuminated the festivities. Dipper's arm was around some faceless girl, her hand was interlocked with someone. Someone who smelled like strawberries.

Weird.

Her mother was beaming, laughing and telling jokes. Her father was supportive and affectionate, he cared about her existence and jokingly threatened her date. And Stan…Stan was there too. He was giving her warm smiles because he was forgiven. She didn't remember _why_ he was forgiven, but she knew that he was.

And she…she was plummeting into darkness.

 _NO ESCAPE._

"What do you mean there's a problem?"

She opened her eyes. She was dressed in a hospital gown, lying on a messy bed. Sitting up, she found that the bed was to the far left wall of a cell, lit only by the crack of light created by the open door.

Defending her vision with a hand, she saw that a tall man in a lab coat was at the door, speaking with a nurse. She slid out of the bed, shivering when her feet touched the cold carpet. Her legs felt unreliable as she staggered towards the door. The plummeting feeling had still not left her, and it made everything unbearably blurry.

"Sit back down!" The man was yelling at her.

She nodded, and curled up on the bed, more than willing to regain her balance. "I…where am I?"

The man sighed. "One moment Mabel."

As he continued his conversation with the nurse, Mabel noticed the details of the room. There was a small wooden chair in the corner, a photo of her and Dipper as twelve-year old's (posted to the small window above her bed), and there was a calendar next to the doorway.

"Alright, I'm sorry about that…Cho was getting rather rowdy." The man flipped a switch, and Mabel winced at the bright white light. "Now, what was your question?"

She shivered again, realizing that the man was Stan. Or a version of Stan. Or whatever Dipper had said.

"I…I asked where I was."

He sighed. "Really? We've been over this a thousand times, Mabel."

His tone reminded her of Dipper after he had tried to explain an algebraic concept to her. "I…just…one more time, please…I don't…know where I am…"

The doctor Stan glanced down at his clipboard as he spoke in a voice burdened with tedium. "You're at the Oregon State Hospital. You've been here for the past two months."

Mabel stared at the blankets. "But I-I'm not sick."

"No, you are. You've been sick for a very long time…but that's about to change. I'm here to make sure that you get better."

She coughed. "Could I uh, take a look around outside?"

He frowned. "No. We've been over this. You are not stable enough for us to give you that freedom. Once we've made some progress, I will get you an escort."

She wanted to dispute this, but she got the feeling that would get her nowhere. "Okay…lets umm, talk then."

He brightened. "That's very mature of you. It sounds like we're finally making some progress. So…have you been practicing the techniques I taught you about controlling your anger?"

She nodded.

"Great! And did you write down in your words that this 'Gravity Falls' is just an escape from what your reality?"

She was going to admit "no", before noticing a paper on the window sill. She removed it and briefly read over it.

"Mabel? Read it aloud please."

She took a deep breath and tried to decipher her own horrible handwriting. "I have been in this hospital for the past two months, you are not my great uncle…you are my doctor. There is no town named Gravity Falls…that is a name I invented after I-"

Mabel paused and swallowed. "…a-after I accidentally k-killed my parents by backing out of the driveway with the family car. I-I have been inventing a series of outlandish adventures with my brother and believing that they are real…because I um, I have Paranoid Schizophrenia…"

"You sound surprised. Do you remember writing this, Mabel?"

She faked an 'uh-huh', and he folded his arms. "Mabel, I'm not your enemy. I'm not some shapeshifter, I'm not some illusion. I only want the best for you, and I know that this is difficult, but you need to let go of this conspiracy delusion." Both of them were silent for a moment and then he stood up. "Wait, a second…did you take your medicine?"

Her eyes widened and she raised her gaze. "I-"

"You threw it under your bed again, didn't you? Just, stay where you are, I'll go get some more."

As he opened the door, she realized it might be his only chance of escape. She jumped forward, knocking him over and darting down the hall to the right, without hesitation. She could hear the doctor Stan call out, ordering some orderlies after her.

She turned the corner and slammed into Dipper. He was dressed normally and wore an expression of relief on seeing her.

He frowned. "Mabel, what did you-"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon, they wanna lock me up, that's all you need to know."

Dipper glanced over his shoulder as she tugged him along. When they were both around a corner, she addressed him. "Where's Brenda?"

He shrugged. "I don't…know."

"Well, umm, did you find the obsidian door?"

Something flashed over his face. "Yeah, it's this way." He took her hand and led her back around the corner.

"Wait, no it isn't. I looked to the left and I didn't see it…unless it was in one of the rooms."

He shrugged, continuing to pull despite her resistance. "Yeah, it's uh…it's in one of the rooms."

Her eyes widened. "Y-you're not the real Dipper."

He stopped and gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"You-you're a f-figment of my imagination…you want to lock me up…I don't know if Bill made you or-or if it was something else but you…no." She pulled her grip loose from his and he grew a frustrated look on his face. "Mabel, you need to calm down."

"No! You need to leave me alone." She turned and a nurse who looked suspiciously similar to Pacifica grabbed her arms.

"It's alright Ma'am, please calm yourself." The blonde said with the attitude of someone working the drive-in.

The Fake-Dipper winced to see Mabel struggle and spoke with a cracking voice. "You need to…to calm down Mabel. You…your only here to get better."

"NO! You're not real! My brother wouldn't let anyone lock me up! That I know, no matter w-what I did…h-he wouldn't…"

"For god sakes, Mabel! Don't you think your stories about you and me, don't you find them a little far-fetched? Don't you think that maybe, just maybe there's a reason why so little of your memory makes any sense?"

She paused her struggling at that final accusation. He was correct. She didn't remember ever being told about Stan before the beginning of summer. And she didn't definitely remember Dipper acting in the paranoid, violent, and self-destructive manner which he had since the beginning of summer.

"Don't you think there's a reason that none of the letters you've written home have been responded to? That you can't call them? Th-their d-dead Mabel…" He looked away, unwilling to face her with wet eyes. "…and the sooner you realize that the better you will be."

She shook her head. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. She had a mission, she had the real Dipper depending on her not being tricked.

She broke free of Pacifica's hold, elbowing her in the stomach and ran towards the door. She burst out, ignoring the shouts after her, including her brother's own voice. Trees blurred past her, leaves and twigs becoming crushed under her bare footfalls.

The sounds of birds echoed through the tropical forest as she tried to keep herself together. Needles struck the soles of her feet, causing her to slow down and collapse beside a massive log. As she pulled the needles out of her foot, recognizing that her throat still felt all icky with emotions, she heard someone calling her name.

Falling into a crouching position, her eyes darted around the lush jungle. Another call and she recognized the voice as Brenda's. Her breathing rate calmed and then picked up. What if it was another trick? What if she was another nurse? What if they were going to drag her back there, while Bill took over Stan and used him to shoot everyone?

"Mabel? I saw you running…listen…I…I'm real alright? I'm not a figment like Stetson, I'm the real deal."

Mabel grabbed a thick branch. She wanted to yell "prove it" but thought better of it. There was too much of a risk, she would have to find the door on her own.

"I know stuff which only I would…when you first met me, you were in a yellow bikini, one which you got from Pacifica because she felt bad for you. I helped you rescue Dipper from the lake lifeguard…he had blue and white checkered kitchen tiles. He made a really silly face when Candy hit him with the skillet. We were just in this weird circus world, where Bill uh, mocked us, kind of childishly actually. Heh…he uh, he called you 'Falling Star'? No, um, Shooting Star…that's what he called you and he got real angry at me. He revealed that I was a junkie, which I hope doesn't freak you out too mu-"

Mabel charged Brenda with a hug and nearly brought the taller girl down. Brenda chuckled at her affection until she realized that Mabel was shaking. "Woah, what happened to you?"

She pulled herself off. "Well, I uh, it's not really important."

Brenda folded her arms. "Okay, listen up; you know that I use drugs, so when we get out of this surreal-whatsit land…you are going to even the score, alright? You can't hug me and then say it's nothing. I'm not going to allow one of my friends to do that."

She smiled. "Okay, I-I'll tell you. I promise."

Their moment was shattered when they heard Dipper's scream, a sound immediately followed by Bill's cackling. Both darted towards the source of the sound, foolishly.

 **[0]**

Bill tossed Dipper into a rock and placed a hand on his stomach. _"You know, before, I was just going to traumatize you and your pals…I wasn't even going to fulfill my side of the pact. I was gonna use Crescent to shoot InfinitySign, get me a new puppet, and then off himself…but NO! You had to get in the way, you couldn't give up optimism for your uncle like a normal hominid, you couldn't take a day off to play Flappy Bird and eat pop tarts. You had to stick-_ " He kicked Dipper, sending the limp teenager into the bushes of the forest. Dipper coughed up blood, forcing himself to crawl further into the brush.

 _"-your nostrils-"_ Bill lifted Dipper a dozen feet into the air with about of blue energy, constricting his throat and bringing him closer by the second. _"-where they don't belong!"_

Tendrils of shadow extended out of Bill's shoulders and stomach, circling his prey. _"Ah well, I'll make your sojourn at the sanitarium a prolonged one."_

"GET OFF OF HIM!"

Both the demon and his victim looked in the direction of the shout. They found Mabel charging at Bill, a branch in hand. Brenda was right behind her, with a similar look of anger.

Mabel closed her eyes as she slammed the branch into Bill's stomach area. There was no dull thud, no change in Bill's (albeit rather two-dimensional) expression. Instead, the branch slid through his body, becoming lodged somewhere in the center.

 _"Nice try, ShootingStar. But did you really believe that corporal attacks have a consequence on me?"_

Dipper watched, unable to object (let alone grunt) as more tendrils extended out of the spot where the branch was, and gripped Mabel's hands. She screamed at the touch and Brenda skidded to a halt, watching in horror as Mabel was dragged _into_ Bill.

Her screams grew unbearably loud and shrill as Bill just chuckled. From his position, Dipper was unable to see what part of Bill's anatomy, Mabel could see. But he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Mabel got out one desperate struggle, before being completely consumed. Bill dropped Dipper, leaving him winded, and trying not to think about the horror his sister was experiencing because of his own weakness.

The demon chuckled again, growing taller and taller as Brenda backed away. _"You really are a lousy replacement, you know that?"_ He snapped his fingers, and she fell to the ground, screaming as worms crawled out of her skin, sickly red from the veins they'd popped.

Bill turned back to Dipper and levitated directly over him. _"You know, for a smart guy, you make for a really amusing moron."_

Dipper felt a sharp pain in his thumb and stared at it. As he watched the red trickle, the whole world grew blurry. Then his hand began to flicker in and out of invisibility.

 _"Man, BrokenHeart, you sure know how to kill the mood. He's such deadwood, interfering with our waltz like that…"_ The demon sounded almost like a teenager girl sulking that her prom date had been interrupted. _"Ah well, I'll just have to pay him a stopover subsequent to the resolution of my business here."_

Dipper could see Brenda flickering just like him, and closed his eyes as the world disappeared from under him.

 **[0]**

Candy came to the final verse of the chant and looked up to see Dipper and Brenda opening their eyes. They were both gasping like she had just rescued them from drowning. Candy ran over to her girlfriend, trying to make sure she was alright but getting no verbal response.

Robbie was next to Mabel, having already pricked her finger and received no response. He now stared at her with concern.

Dipper took a moment to take in his surroundings, before rushing over to Mabel.

"What is wrong?" Candy asked, stepping closer.

Robbie raised his eyes as he spoke. "She…she's not breathing."

Dipper glanced between Robbie and Candy. "Did one of you do something wrong?"

Both of them shook their heads, Robbie choosing to elaborate. "I followed the instructions exactly, I know how dangerous this stuff is."  
Dipper was about to ask something else when Stan's eyes opened. All four teens turned their attention to him, and he jumped to his feet.

"G-get out of m-my house!" He demanded, his voice shaking not just with rage. "All of y-you! Y-you don't belong here. You…you've got n-no right…n-no r-right to j-just t-turn on me…"

Dipper stood up. "Stan, it's alright…"

The old man shook his head. "I swear to god, I'll get my rifle and-"

"You're scared."

Stan narrowed his eyes. "I'm not scared, I just want you off my property! None of you are my problem!"

"You are scared. That's alright. Everyone is." Dipper took a step forward and Stan's expression calmed as Dipper continued. "Everyone in this room has been more scared than most people…ever will be. That's alright. What's important is that we fix the real problem, not focus on that fear."

Stan shook his head. "I…I don't-"

"Mabel's still in there Stan, we need to defeat Bill. We need to go back in one more time…and for that, we need your help."

Stan grew glossy eyed. "I-I can't…Dipper, if you knew what I've done, you wouldn't-"

Again, Dipper interrupted him. "I probably wouldn't forgive you. But Mabel is depending on me, so I don't have time to care about all that."

Stan was silent for a long time, and Candy tensed with the knowledge that he might attack them (and especially her) with any moment. But instead, he sat back down.

"Alright…just tell me what I have to do."

 **[0]**

Since three people were required to enter (but Mabel was still part of the circle despite flickering between life and death), it was decided that Dipper and Candy would go back in. Brenda had not wanted Candy anywhere near Bill, but she had been too mentally exhausted and borderline traumatized, to protest very much. Robbie, being the only one of them having studied the rituals besides Dipper (in the barest sense of the word "studied"), had to stay behind.

Forcing Bill's ejection from Stan's mind _should_ bring Mabel back to them. Stan consented to them tying him down to the couch, just in case everything went to shit.

Before they began, Robbie pulled Dipper to the side. "Dude, what if the demon possess the three of you?"

Dipper glanced at Candy and his sister, then his eyes locked with Robbie's. "Tie us down as well."

Robbie tried not to shudder at the thought as he responded in a harsh whisper. "But I won't be able to tell if you really are yourselves! The demon can read your thoughts."

Dipper lowered his head. "If the journal is to be believed, then all possessions change the eyes. Alright?"

Robbie let out a belabored breath and acknowledged this.

This time, the ritual was far more violent in its effect. The entire house shook, and shadows of invisible entities bled across the walls as blue flame rose from the candles. Dipper and Candy both grew sick to their stomachs, but going to sleep this time around was far more immediate than previously.

As the ritual was enacted, Dipper tried to steal himself for the pain which Bill would inflict.

When he opened his eyes, he and Candy were standing in the same blackness as before, only with creases of red in the distance. For a moment he was afraid they had been dropped back to the first level somehow. Then he recognized the rock he'd been tossed at, about twenty feet away, and wavering just as his hand had.

The sounds of stomping reached them both and they turned, to watch a twelve story version of Bill punching the boundaries of the psychic plane and sending red cracks across the floor and sky. He must have gotten tired of looking for the obsidian door, Dipper surmised, figuring that the imaginations of him, Mabel, and Candy, had obscured the demon's sight (as Bill had been able to find the door for the first plane in seconds).

Candy swallowed. "That is the demon, incorrect?"

Dipper nodded, before turning to her. "We should split up, we'll find the door faster now that he's been destroying bits of the plane and he won't be able to find us."

Candy didn't understand everything he'd just said, but agreed regardless. Dipper headed past the rock and to the right, while his companion traveled to the left. He had to stop when he got to a massive crack in the ground (or floor depending on your perspective) and began moving in the opposite of the door.

He had just turned and found that Candy was heading his way when he noticed that there was a pink carpet lying on a patch of dirt. He quickly glanced back to Bill and yanked up the carpet. Beneath it, was an obsidian trap door.

 _"PINETREE!"_

He didn't bother looking around, instead opening the door. By the time his eyes had fallen upon the abyss below, that same energy grabbed his throat and raised him above the ground. His legs kicked the air as Bill's seething became louder and louder.

As he stared at Bill's massive eye and felt the heat curl off of the demon's hide and tickle his forearms, he wondered if this what it was like to be in a submarine, next to a whale. No, this had to be worse. Whales did not emit the same aura of madness.

 **"It would have been pragmatic to resign while you were in the lead kid…if you think I was ruthless before, you're not gonna like me now that I'm _ticked off_. But don't worry, you're gonna join your sister in the hell that is my form."**

Dipper smirked. "You know, for someone so observant, you have an issue focusing on the right thing."

Bill's eye narrowed and then widened when he realized that Candy was climbing into the trap door.

Dipper expected some kind of "NO!" or some arcane curse. Instead, Bill turned his eye back on Dipper and said the words which the teen felt least likely to hear.

 _"Well done, you win."_

Dipper blinked. "W-what?"

Bill giggled. _"You_ win _. I could jump back into Crescent's skull after a moment of recuperation, but I'd prefer to find a different way to get myself a new servant. Your uncle can live a little longer."_

Dipper swallowed. "You're lying. This has to be some kind of game…why would you give up after all that?"

 _"Because I realized that your uncle isn't the one who banished me and damaged my omnipotence…you can have ShootingStar now that I'm finished with her."_

Bill dug a hand into his chest and dropped a limp Mabel into Dipper's arms. _"I had all but given up all hope that you and your sister being valuable…you evidenced me erroneous…but until we encounter one another again…_ **I'll be watching you."**

As he said this, everything began to glow white.

 **[0 _as of this point, I suggest that you play "Laura's Theme" from Silent Hill 2 as you read this_ ]**

Candy was floating. Her stomach felt odder than before, and her fingertips were painfully cold. Again, darkness surrounded her, but this time, it was shifting and curling with its own mind.

"Hello?" She called, wondering if she truly wanted to come in contact with what Dipper had called the "most primitive state."

Stan had not exactly been tactile as his regular self. What kind of beast would he be here? At first, there was no response to her call, but then, from straight ahead, a small, pale boy walked out of the darkness.

He had brown hair and oval-lensed spectacles which slid down his nose every few seconds. "Why are you here?" He was standing, despite the fact that she was unable to touch the ground.

"There is demon coming and you must force him out." She said, after taking him in. His voice was about as timid as her own when she was at her worst.

He sighed. "You mean Mr. Sweetdreams? There's no point. I tried before…to get rid of him, to save my family from him." The boy looked guiltily to his shoes. "I failed." He looked up and gave a false smile. "Besides, I would just make things worse…"

Candy swallowed. "Even if it is only temporary…you have to. Everyone is dependent on it."

The little boy sighed. "If they die today or tomorrow it doesn't matter…it's too late for me…and it's too late for everybody else as well. I've tried over and over again to make life better…but I can't. I always make things worse."

The sound of stomping returned to her and Candy stared at him. "Please. For Mabel and Dipper…they do not deserve. They deserve the chance to fight back."

He smirked. "Okay. Fine."

She was a little stunned that it was this easy.

The wall was torn open and to reveal Bill, and the little boy sighed. "We've been through this before Cipher…"

As Candy watched, he transformed into Stan, in that same impeccable suit. "…leave my family alone, you triangular piece of shit."

With that declaration, red, green, and orange light exploded from the darkness and burnt through Bill's form. The demon howled and turned his vision on Candy. As he did, he turned white and shattered into a million pieces.

Everything went white as he exploded and the world came crashing up around her. Her eyes opened and discovered that Brenda was embracing her, laughing with the fact that she was alive. _You did it_ , you finally did something _right_ for once.

Dipper and Mabel were already awake, the former supporting the shaking latter and telling her that everything would be alright. Robbie was on the phone with somebody, his voice cracking as he smiled wider with every response.

And then Stan was offering her a hand up. She met his eyes and he coughed, causing the room to nearly go silent.

"I uh…I apologize. I had reasons for threatening you, but they weren't good reasons…if there's ever any way that I can make it up to you…just tell me."

Candy took his hand and acknowledges his apology with a curt nod. She watched as Stan turned to Dipper and Mabel.

"If the two of you are up to it…I'd like to take you to the Greasy Ladle and um, explain myself. If you're not…I'll turn myself in. I've done some pretty shitty things, and I thought you'd like to hear them before you…you know, decide whether I belong in jail."

The twin exchanged looks before Mabel spoke. "I st-still haven't had lunch."

Both Dipper and Stan chuckled at that, and despite how clearly out of everything she was, Mabel gave the hint of a smile.

Then the door was being kicked down, and swat members were pouring into the room. Agent Gray shoved past her and addressed Stan as they slammed him to the ground and handcuffed him. He spoke with the most self-satisfied smile Candy had ever seen.

"Stanford Pines, you are under arrest for mass murder, theft, organized crime, suspected acts of terrorism, conspiracy, match fixing, bribery, smuggling historical artifacts, and for interfering with the evidence regarding the disappearance Arthur and Ruby Pines, as well as various other crimes too numerous to be mentioned at this junction. Oh, yeah...and tax evasion." He grinned as they lifted Stan to face him, and folded his arms. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and _will_ be used against in the court of law."

Stan cast one last miserable look to the twins, before being shuffled out the front door. Agent Gray turned to the rest of them. "You will all be interviewed regarding your association with this man before being allowed home…" He turned addressed Mabel and Dipper without the least bit of sympathy in his voice. "As for you two, you'll be taken to a holding area to be decontaminated before being placed in the foster system. Form an orderly line, no protesting, for those of you who are minors and are not orphaned, your parents are already being contacted."

As they made it outside, into the light of the full moon, Dipper began to sway on his feet. Just as soon as this was noticed, he collapsed onto the dusty gravel and turned catatonic. He was still breathing, but foam collected at his mouth as his body twitched horribly.

An ambulance was called as Mabel was dragged by two SWATT members, kicking and screaming, away from her brother and into the back of a truck.

Candy could practically hear the demon laughing in her ear.

 _You're next_.

 **[0]**

Gideon surveyed the scene surrounding The Shack from the bushes across the lot, his eyes wide.

Bill jerked into existence to his right and tapped his shoulder. _"Stan Pines has been detained, Dipper Pines is brain dead…soon as the feds let go of ShootingStar, you'll be at liberty to creepily fondle her with your old man paws."_

Gideon frowned. "But you didn't-!"

 _"Who do you think contacted the suits? Who do you think left a psychic colophon on Dipper Pines's brain every time he beat the crap out of him?"_

Gideon swallowed. "Why didn't you just kill them?"

Bill giggled harder. _"You've got no imagination, do you? Yeah, I could have a ton of people murdered, I've got admirers in every nation. But death is a mercy to exhaustion. And exhaustion…breeds desperation."_ The darkness in his voice was replaced with that same childlike energy. _"Now, are you gonna keep asking stupid questions, or are you gonna grab control of the town now that Stan Pines is out of the picture?"_

Gideon had not considered this, but now that it had been mentioned, the idea would not escape his mind. "Yes, I…I suppose I have a lot of work to do…"

Bill nodded and walked off into the forest. _"Good…you do that. I've got places to devastate and lives to ruin."_

As Gideon considered the possibilities now available to him, the demon he summoned was slid back into the nightmare realm. The next few parts of his plan were sliding into place as he observed the defeated ShootingStar sitting in the back of the SBE van and repeating to herself over and over how things were "alright."

He found it hilarious.

* * *

 **Message: Resolc si hcihw tuo erugif seof dna sdneirf ruoy tel tnod.**

 **Resserd yppans. Rail. Retsnom.**

 ** _Reviews_**

 **IsmaelParica** :

 _I'm not the best guy at making reviews so I won't even try to make a 20 to 50 lines review, I'll just say that I like how you're picturing Dipper, Mabel, Pacifica, Stan and Bill._

 ** _Thanks! Every review helps! :D_**

 **The Keeper of Worlds**

 _Incredibly intense here and I loved the mental aspects and the hallucinating dreams. It really shows Bill's potential here, and after questions, the journal Gideon has is that old, makes you wonder HOW the others came to be with Ford? Brenda had some interesting parts leaked this time, and now Robbie is a cool full ally going to help save them. It's a welcome change of pace honestly._

 _Would this Brenda replace Soos on the wheel? Because you said in an answer that he was dead._

 ** _I can't say what sign Brenda is yet._**

 **Coldblue** :

 _Here are my Questions/Suggestions._

 _I just hope these are good Questions/Suggestions that will get you thinking._

 _Questions_

 _1) Is Mable Pines more distrustful of family, than Dipper Pines right now, who willing to help family even though both twins know Stan secret with the dead bodies and threatening Candy?_

 ** _If you haven't caught on yet, Dipper cares less about his own well-being than most people. That's why he was willing to go back in after being essentially tortured by Bill._**

 _3) Is Dipper not going to be trusted by anyone once Mable and Brenda tell their friends or not that Dipper tricked them about the danger of going into other people mind fighting a Demon?_

 ** _No. That's not how Mabel works, and Brenda has lied to enough people that she doesn't care too much (although she's sure as hell going to tell Candy to not trust everything he says)._**

 _4) Does Bill Cipher have bigger plans for Dipper/PineTree, Mable/Shooting Star, and Stan/Crest Moon? Is Bill just testing them for something or an event?_

 ** _Bill was going to make Stan shoot himself after he killed Gideon for him. But now that he's figured out Stan didn't play as large a role in disrupting his plans, he figures he can stand his existence a little longer._**

 _5) Is there a chance the Government Agents will try to recruit or use the Pine Twins in the future for missions or anomalies that can't have Government figure prints and need civilians to complete their mission?_

 ** _They're not going to recruit teenagers. They sure as hell want all that info, though, and they don't care much how they retrieve it._**

 _Suggestions_

 _1) Again, it just seems that way. Sure, she trusts her brother, but Dipper did not really tell her the dangers of going into someone else unconscious and dealing with a Demon. This chapter just gave me that feeling that Mable Pines character changing or I'm just reading too much into it. I feel that Mable has a sense of detachment or thinks that Stan did not deserve her help. It just that you think with the crazy and supernatural things happening with Gravity Falls and with the things that she and Dipper have experienced she would try to save Stan more. Sure, right now they are in the Dreamscape, but that only because Dipper going in to face a Demon and she cares for her brother._

 ** _Mabel is changing. And she doesn't like it. Also, given his speech about stopping Stan from being possessed, she couldn't live with herself if she let Stan have that same horrible feeling of having another force inside your body._**

 _2) It seems like someone else could go into the Dreamscape. I don't know about Robbie. Who knows, though? A lot of things that could happen either right or wrong. It just makes me wonder who else will go into the Dreamscape or be there to wake up Stan, Dipper, Mable, and Brenda. Maybe the people asleep could have violent sleepwalker episode or the people awake notice that people asleep are being hurt and damaged when they sleep. Either way, someone would be curious to try to see what their friends are dealing with._

 ** _There is a limit to how much surreal stuff I can write. I also didn't have anything about Candy's/Robbie's/Pacifica's character which I felt the need to bring up through the Dreamscape. Maybe it feels like a missed opportunity, but I think it's best this way (vs me churning out some more Freudian stuff I don't care to reflect on)._**

 _3) That rather interesting. A sense of distrust within this group of allies and friends. Dipper not friends with them all with only Mable, who is his twin. Other than that none of them are really Dipper friends. They are Mable friends, even Robbie probably more friendly with Mable than Dipper and that only because Robbie might have kill Dipper if Gideon Gleeful does not stop anything or is the wrong 'child' with a red journal. It just seems like within Dipper character to somehow alienate everyone or possible have everyone against him._

 ** _As this chapter shows, Robbie is very dependent on Dipper to help him on his quest to lie to himself that he has not failed. Yes, Dipper alienates people like fire burns wood (although he only believes that everyone is against him, 99% of the human race is apathetic to his existence and eventual demise)._**

 _4) It just seems like Bill has his own agenda. Most powerful Demons always do, so I don't believe Gideon will get what he wants at all with the deal he made with Bill. Bill Cipher has a rather interesting history with the Pine Family that this particular strong and powerful Demon needs them. For what? I don't know. "Gravity Falls", they were possibly used to stop Bill Cipher, but they need more people for each Symbol to finish the pentagram/calendar that represented each individual idea. Though, "Depravity Falls" could be way different than we think it is and that Dipper, Mable, and Stan could be used for something that is more dangerous. Of course, Stan, Dipper, and Mable could be threats to Bill Cipher to stop whatever plans he has. With great evil, good must counter it to bring balance to the Universe._

 ** _Bill has spent the last trillion years with his own agenda._**

 ** _He considers flesh bags about as threatening to his plans, as the breeze is to fishing._**

 _5) That would be interesting. The Government Agents could do that with the Norwood Family to spy on them and to probably take down more dangerous enemies within the United States. We could have the Government Agents tell the Pine Twins about The Machine that rumored to be around Gravity Falls and that it connected with their great uncle Stan Pines. It's rather interesting idea that "Gravity Falls" failed to use. I mean, the Government Agents were one dimensional and did not try to use the Pine Twins at all. It was basically the government versus the Pines Family. Pine Family for the win. It interesting to read Government Agents actually recruiting, blackmailing or using the Pine Twins to actually get their job done. They deal with Supernatural and Craziness a lot, so using two teenagers don't seem that bad with how Moral gray world around that they try to protect from the MAJOR Population of the United States or the World._

 ** _The Agents are not going to reveal anything that they don't consider crucial to be revealed. They are obscurantist by nature, much like the FBI and the actual CIA._**

 _Stan Pines:_

 _Always the complicated man, but I can respect him. Dealing with his own demons and mistakes. At least Stan Pines does not hide that he selfish and only does anything for his own personal needs. I like that comparison between Gideon Gleeful and Preston Norwood. Those two would destroy whatever it is they don't like and turn it into a freaking witch hunt so that they can reap the benefits. Stan Pines, well, he does what he does because it benefits him. We got a lot out of Stan Pines with Bill Cipher going into his mind. Stan cares for family. He really does. Stan missed his wife, wanted to have children, his brother to be very successful and a family love. That just what Stan is starving for and tries to get money and whatever form of success to fill the void where family love should be. Stan father was hard, if not harder on him and Stan brother to become men and be something that was supposed to make the family proud. Stan does care for Dipper and Mable. Stan actually a good father figure to Dipper, but now that trust is broken and never can be prepared. Mable, well, she no longer trusts Stan Pines anymore._

 ** _We'll have to see if Stan's explanation is good enough for the twins in light of recent events._**

 _Gideon Gleeful:_

 _It looks like Gideon gets to live longer. For now. Though, it looks like Gideon is sort of BOND to Bill Cipher to be his servant. Being a servant could entail hellish things. Gideon wants Bill Cipher to kill Stan Pines and Dipper Pines, but I don't Bill will do it. To Bill, this will be a test measure these Homo Sapiens resolve; which is PineTree, Shooting Star, and Crest Moon. Dipper, Mable, and Stan are still in danger, But Bill will test them. Gideon just does not know what he got into even with his experience and wisdom of the Supernatural._

 ** _Gideon was in over his head from the moment that he saw Mabel and became transfixed by her smiling face._**

 _Robbie:_

 _Interesting. Scouting Gideon and getting ready to kill him. It just seems that Candy saved Gideon life for now, by telling Robbie that Mable and Dipper are dealing with a Demon situation. Love how Robbie prioritizing responsibilities on killing a Sociopath/Psychopath such as Gideon to stopping an actual Demon. It is rather interesting the responsible outlook which Robbie has._

 ** _He considers himself chosen by powers beyond his own comprehension. That's what he wanted anyway. He hates (and fears) normalcy more than anything else._**

 ** _Also, just so you know, sociopaths aren't normally successful. They have trouble understanding and feeling empathy which means that it's hard for them to function in society. As a result, they typically live on the outskirts of society._**

 ** _Psychopaths, on the other hand, understand empathy and manipulate people to achieve their goals. Psychopaths are frequently extremely successful because they can change their personality to suit whoever they're trying to take advantage of._**

 ** _Gideon is (medically speaking) neither. He has neither mental condition, he's just been alive too long (and seen too much) to still care about anything besides himself._**

 _Brenda:_

 _She and Dipper don't get along. They are especially not going to get along with Dipper keeping her and Mable out of the idea that they could potential die in the Dreamscape along the way. Brenda is also being tormented by Bill Cipher. Brenda might seem strong and impressive on the outside, but Bill Cipher hinting that Brenda is not what she appears to be. More like fragile and scared, but wants to be this idea of Champion and Hero. Brenda character reaching complex places that I like to read._

 ** _Brenda and Dipper are almost as differing as him and Mabel. He's painfully methodical, she's destructively brash._**

 ** _Brenda definitely has a complex character, although you'll only get a lot about her come Season 2._**

 _Mable Pines:_

 _Well, Bill Cipher mention Mable has not changed out all the characters, but I don't think so. I think Mable Pines has grown to be wary and suspicious of people now that she's been at Gravity Falls. Mable does not believe Stan right now and was willing to have him at the Police Station. That a sense of detachment right there. I was shocked that Mable did not care more for Stan, but Dipper does. Mable revealed the truth of the dead bodies to Dipper and yet Dipper willing to save Stan after the horrible things he's been doing in the basement and threatened Candy. Man, I don't know. Maybe Mable has changed to me or I could be wrong._

 ** _He's not referring to the first day of the 2016 summer when he says "you haven't changed." But yes, she has changed, just not from his perspective. To Bill, the nuanced things may as well not exist. That's why he speaks in such an obnoxious, squeaky voice._**

 _Dipper Pines:_

 _A sense of responsibility in keeping his family from being possessed. Dipper hated when Mable was possessed, so now Dipper going to try to save Stan. Dipper knew the dangers of going into Stan's mind but did not tell the others. That shows Dipper does not trust the others that much. I mean, they were just going to leave Stan possessed by a demon. That seems reasonable for people who don't know what to do, but Dipper thinks he has an idea and has only experience exorcising Ghosts out of Mable. That what giving Dipper motivation. Of course, Dipper has a softer spot for Stan. Why not? It seems that Stan gives Dipper and Mable the attention they crave from their own parents. Mable pointed out in past chapters that Dipper works hard to be smart for his parents and has breakdowns when he does not achieve his mark. Who knows what going to happen after all this but it going to be interesting?_

 ** _Dipper is almost as in over his head as Gideon. They are actually disturbingly similar if you think about it…_**


	14. S1,E12:Festering Culmination(S1 Finale)

**Episode 12: Festering Culmination**

* * *

 _"Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane."― H.P. Lovecraft_

* * *

Mabel ogled the metal table in front of her.

The agents had only removed her blindfold after walking her down about thirty minutes of halls, into elevators and up staircases. Now Agent Gray and Agent Lockhart sat across the stainless-steel interrogation table, the former wearing an ecstatic expression, the latter stone-faced as always.

She folded her arms and leaned into her chair as she spoke. "When are you going to let me see Dipper?"

Agent Gray opened a briefcase and removed a recorder, he placed it in the center of the table as he spoke. "He is in a safe location at the moment, when he has recovered and the information we need has been extracted from him, as well as the reason for him falling unconscious, you will be reunited."

She swallowed. "If I tell you everything I know…can I visit him?"

Agent Lockhart cracked his knuckles as he responded. "We'll see. We need to make sure he is not infected first."

Mabel frowned. "Infected with what?"

Agent Gray started the recording and knotted his fingers as he ignored her question. "Were your parent's nervous about sending you into the care of Stan Pines?"

Mabel shook her head.

"Please speak for the recording."

She took a moment to force herself not to tick these guys off any more than she already had. She didn't know how much what they had accused Stan of was true, but by the very fact of pulling her away from her brother after he fell unconscious and were withholding information from her, was enough to know that they were untrustworthy assholes.

As well, they had refused this entire time, to tell her about her apparently missing parents or about the various crimes they'd accused Stan of committing. Had they not been in a position of power, their actions regarding her and everyone else would have bordered on kidnapping.

"No. They were not nervous. If you guys knew my parents were missing, why didn't you tell me and Dipper?"

Agent Lockhart jumped to the next question. "You told us when asked last week, that you have never found your uncle to be guilty of subversive behavior. Would you like to retract that statement?"

Mabel took a long moment. "Stan threatened a friend of mine and he may have been involved in…grave robbing."

Agent Gray adjusted his sunglasses, his smile gone and replaced with the picture of intensity. "I see. And why didn't you alert us to this previously?"

"I found out a full two days after."

"But didn't we supply you with a number to call us in the case of this particular instance."

She raised her vision. "You did supply me with a number. I forgot."

Both grew disgruntled and Agent Gray removed a file from his lap, before flipping it open. "On June 7th, you, your sibling, Gwendolyn Corduroy, Robert Valentino, Tambry Jones, Lee Whit, Thompson Gilmore, and Nate Manson all entered the abandoned 'Dusk Till Dawn' shopping mall. Preceding this night, Lee Whit, Thompson Gilmore, and Nate Manson were never seen nor heard from again. Can you tell us what occurred there?"

"What does this have to do with my uncle?"

"Answer the question," Gray replied.

She forced herself to calm down. "They _died_."

Agent Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"I didn't see them die. I was unconscious at the time. All I know is that when I regained control of my body, they were dead."

Gray leaned forward. "What do you mean 'regained control'? That's a very specific use of words."

Mabel turned her attention to the recorder. "Yes, I suppose that _is_ a specific use of words."

Lockhart twitched. "Is there something which you aren't telling us, Miss Pines?"

She met his eyes. "If you want the truth then you're going to have to turn off that recording."

"We can't do that." Gray insisted.

"Well, I'm not going to let you guys lock me up by having recorded evidence."

"Recorded evidence of what?" Lockhart sounded extremely frustrated.

"The supernatural." She said as she watched the tape circle. They must really be using out of date technology.

Gray stood up and drew to her side of the table. "Miss Pines, our group is devoted towards discovering the origin of the unnaturally high amount of disappearances in the Gravity Falls area."

"You're not actually from the CIA, are you?" She asked without looking up.

"You're very clever. Now, I can assure you, that we would not consider prosecuting someone for-"

"If you want the truth you have to turn off that recorder and you have to promise me as much visiting time with my brother as I want."

He practically growled, and then gave his partner some kind of gesture. The moment that the recorder had been turned off, he leaned down, his hot breath cupping her ear lobe.

"We have ways of extracting the information we need, Miss Pines. I would suggest that you co-operate in the most sensible manner possible because whether it's right now or in fifteen years of incarceration from now, we will get the information that we need."

She looked up. "You can't lock me up for doing nothing."

His smile returned and she realized how serpentine his features were. "We have records of your psychotic breakdown when you were thirteen-"

"It wasn't a psychotic breakdown!"

He snapped at her. "Really? Because if I'm not mistaken, you _scarred_ a girl for calling you something or other. Isn't that true?"

He slammed his palms down on the table and she flinched eliciting a laugh out of him. "I'll take that as a yes. We also have a lack of co-operation regarding the disappearance of three teenagers who you were with, all of which were older than you. We also have a record of you saying the words 'regained control of my body', which, to the average Joe, sounds a whole lot like someone admitting that they had a psychotic breakdown. _And_ we have an account from a man named Gideon Gage, that you assaulted him."

He sat back down. "Since we have all your friends in custody, I'm sure that we can get them to give accounts of how clearly _unstable_ you are. So, taken all together, I think we at least have grounds to put you through some psychological evaluation, and, since we can control the outcome of that evaluation, I have to agree. No! We cannot lock you up for no reason."

He folded his fingers. "But I think we can come up with plenty of good reasons for life sentences and hospitalization." He turned to agent Lockhart. "Hey! Wouldn't it be a shame if Ursine woke up only to find that his sister's personality had been medicated out of existence?"

Agent Lockhart remained looking ticked off but played along in spite of his clear uncomfortableness with the concept. "That really would be a shame."

Agent Gray nodded and eyed the pale looking Mabel as he spoke. "A goddamned travesty. So…if you'd like to simply tell us everything, then I'm sure we can come to a much more beneficiary deal. Alright?"

Mabel stood up, startling both grown men with the intensity of her gaze. "No! You can threaten me all you want, I'm not telling you anything until I am able to see my brother. Yeah, you might be able to get most of my experiences by pressuring my friends, but guess what? Only I know where The Journal is. What's The Journal? It's a little red book which contains more information about the supernatural then you could ever research in a thousand years. And my brother, Dipper, hid it in a place, and shared the location with me, alone. You can tear up The Shack if you want to, but you will never find it because his paranoia is finally paying off."

She placed her hands on the table. "And guess what? I'M NOT SCARED BY A COUPLE OF DICKS IN SUITS. Get that through your thick skulls, because I've faced everything from ghosts to weird, scarecrow shapeshifters! Nothing you can do is going to scare me. You wanna lock me up? Fine. You wanna kill your chance of ever understanding what's really happening in this valley? FINE. GO RIGHT AHEAD. But I've faced nine-year-olds more threatening than the two of you, in fact, I recently had my mind melded with the entrails of a demon, a lot like what happened to my brother. So you're never going to get anything out of him or me because the two of us have experienced more in the past few months than either of you ever will!"

She sat back down and used her left hand to correct the strands of hair which had fallen loose. And then, she smiled.

"Do you want to turn on the recorder, because I'll be happy to repeat all of that."

Agent Gray let out a loud sigh, causing her smile to only grow.

 **[0]**

As the two agents discussed their next move outside the room, Mabel hugged her arms and tried not to think about never seeing her brother again.

 _"Very impressive ShootingStar. You would make a fantastic actress."_

She opened her eyes and found Bill sitting across the table from her, his shoes resting beside the tape recorder. In his left hand, he circled a steak knife on the tip of his left index figure.

 _"Although I must say, you're kind of throwing your brother under the bus. I mean, no, he's never waking up. But if by some stroke of fate he did, they're gonna be pushing him for that book of his."_

"What do you want?"

Bill cracked his knuckles and the knife disappeared. _"My town back."_ He sat forward, his eye calculating the level of enzymes emitting from her skin. _"Since I've been expelled, a horde of factions have taken control. You're going to aid me in unifying them and getting me ultimate control over the crime syndicates and cults…and before you ask, I'll tell you why_ you're _going to assist me. If you fulfill your side of the deal, I'll awaken your brother_ and _I'll make all of this go away. The government will leave you, your brother, and your uncle alone. And all you gotta do me is one itsy bitsy courtesy."_

Mabel stood up. "You…you tore into my mind…you attacked my brother. I'd never do anything for you!"

Bill giggled. _"Never say never pumpkin. Creation is studded with variables, not constants."_

She turned away, too disturbed by his peering to face him. "J-just leave me alone. I don't know why you think I could help you do that anyway. I'm j-just one person…I don't even know how to drive."

He stood up, flinging the metal chair against the far wall and loping over to her. He placed a thumb against her chin and brought her face towards his. His thumb burnt against her skin but she knew better than to protest.

 _"You're retailing yourself short."_ His words, now in a slower, quieter, and deeper tone, were almost as hypnotic as the misty surface of his eye. _"It's just like the hoary screen tells you; you can do anything you put your mind to."_

"Miss Pines, wake up."

She opened her eyes and found that she had been sleeping against the metal table. Agent Lockhart stood over her, his arms folded. She shook herself and apologized for falling asleep on him. He grunted before finally explaining to her their decision.

"First of all, you are going to type down for us, every single supernatural occurrence which you've experienced. Then, we are going to supply a room for you at the nearest hotel. Since you are a person of interest in a case involving criminal organization, as well as being a minor, I will be keeping with you until either your parents are found or other guardians can be provided. You will not be allowed to stand more than twenty feet away from me at all times, you will be allowed weekly visits with your brother, and he will be able to join you at the residence of your guardians after he recovers. You will provide me and my associates with information regarding the provided occurrences, _whenever_ we ask. Deal?"

Mabel coughed and stood up. "Could I get that all in writing? I'm sorry, but you speak too fast and with too many details for me."

He drew a hand across his face in exasperation and muttered fine as he exited the room.

 **[0]**

Gideon walked into the town square, his smile almost as pale as his sun-deprived skin. When you were as old as he felt, the sun was your only real enemy. Well, it wouldn't be one for long. With Stan Pines out of the picture all he had to do was get the town to condemn that death trap he called a house and then claim the ultimate power lurking beneath it.

He leaned against the statue of Quentin Trebly as a mob of the Brotherhood approached torches and pitchforks in hand.

Their leader, Nathan or something along those lines, stepped forward first as Gideon pretended to be disinterested.  
"Leave our town you fowl being! You are a desecration to all that is holy!"

Gideon lifted an eyebrow and then spoke as he dusted himself off. "Calm yourself, there's no need for me and you all to be enemies. That wouldn't be opportune for anyone involved."

The preacher removed a metal cross from his cloak. "NOW! BEGONE, LEST WE MAKE IT THAT YOU NEVER EXISTED!"

Gideon smiled. "Funny, cause after tonight…" He raised a hand, and the leader of the backward thinking hooligans was lifted into the air choking and kicking. "…everyone's going to pretend that you're the one who never existed."

The preacher's gasps turned to gurgles as blood escaped his mouth with the crushing of his windpipe. He struck the ground like a bullet, drawing gasps and screams from his followers.

Gideon grinned and stepped closer. "Now I want what all of you want, for all these mad paganists and their heathen worship to be gone from your little town. You can either gain a powerful ally…" His eyes glowed as energy coursed through his every vein, turning him into something of an illuminating sky blue skeleton. _"…or you and your loved ones can crumble and die, one…by…one."_

They didn't need much convincing after that.

 **[0]**

Mabel stared at her sleeping brother.

His chest rose and fell with the beeping of the machine to his left. Despite the fact that they were not in the town hospital, instead stowed away in some special facility which the government guys had set up with startling speed, she could not help but remember when his arm had been broken.

Men in lab coats, wearing gas masks and heavy gloves, fretted over him, writing down his vitals every five seconds. She was not allowed to come within seven feet of his bed, and she wondered what they were afraid of. Whatever had happened to Dipper, it wasn't any disease. And even if it was, how would they know that seven feet was far enough away? The contagion could already have afflicted her friends.

Perhaps they were testing Candy, Brenda, and Robbie just at this moment.

She considered asking Agent Lockhart if they were, but decided against it. He was on the phone with somebody and growing more distressed by the moment.

As she looked at him, Agent Lockhart agreed to something and clicked his phone shut. He grabbed Mabel's hand and tugged her out the exit. "C'mon, they need to stabilize him."

Mabel nodded along, forcing herself not to object but keeping an eye on her brother as they dragged him away.

 **[0]**

Stan glared at Agent Gray as the younger man sat down and gave him a characteristic smile. He sat down across the table and crossed his legs while Stan tested the maneuverability of his hands and the length of the

Agent Gray removed a checklist and licked his finger, soaking in this moment. "Now…would you like to inform us as to why you broke into the Pines family residence one day previous to the reported disappearance of Arthur and Ruby Pines?"

Stan smirked. "I was delivering a cup of sugar."

Agent Gray adjusted his sunglasses. "I hope you know that we have no qualms about using um, rather illegal means to acquire the information which we need. Nobody is looking for you Stan Pines, no one will care if you are found in a ditch a couple weeks from now…and hey, with all the criminal connections you have, and we would be the last blamed even if someone did care about you."

Stan twitched. "If you kill me, you don't get all the sweet knowledge in my brain."

Agent Gray stood up and slid on a glove with little metal studs. "No…but a week is long enough to get all we need."  
He walked up behind Stan, before yanking a bag over his head and making contact with the con man's chin. Pain jerked through Stan, reminding him of his brass knuckle brawling days. A second blow landed in the exact same area, as did the third one.

Agent Gray grabbed his sweat drenched hair and leaned down to his ear. "I can do this all week, by the way, I've waited over _thirty years_ to get the answers that I need, so no one, including you, is going to stop me."

Stan cleared his throat and spat out blood before speaking. "If you think this is torture then you are going to have to up the ante."

Agent Gray broke his nose for that.

 **[0]**

Gideon snapped the neck of the leader of the drug boss with two fingers.

He raised his gaze and smiled to the man's associates.

 _"What were you saying about me being too old, again?"_

 **[0]**

As they were still "stabilizing" Dipper, but wanted to show her that they were good on their end of the bargain, the agents decided it would be fine for her to visit one of her friends. It didn't take her long to decide that Candy was the one she wanted to speak with.

The girl was the timidest of all of them, and would be understandably freaked out by being arrested by a government she did not trust and which probably wasn't treating her the same way as Brenda or Robbie.

The girl had been placed in a little blinding white "holding area", which seemed to be code for "cell" in this organization. Agent Lockhart chose to enter with her and regarded Candy with some distaste. No, it wasn't distaste. It was fear.

What was a grown man like him, armed to the teeth, doing being afraid of her tiny friend?

Mabel wasn't sure that she wanted to find out.

"Are you okay?" She asked as she sat down on Candy's cot.

The girl was staring at the corner of the room and surprised Mabel. "Yes. They ask few questions, merely want to know everything I do about Mr. Pines."

Mabel tried not to wince. She didn't blame her friend for not having regrets for revealing everything she knew about Stan to these people. But, no matter how she tried, she could imagine her great uncle doing something to her parents. He wasn't like Gideon, nice for the purpose of controlling those he was attracted to. No, in fact, he'd been a bit of a jerk to her and Dipper when they first arrived, resentful of their presence.

Even if he had committed some of those other crimes, it wasn't right if he ended up locked up forever for murdering people he hadn't (or worse, getting the injection). However, it was clear to her that the people she was dealing with didn't really care about Stan's crimes any more than they did about this town. The arrest was a front for getting him in a room, getting him under their thumb, where they could squeeze all the information they desired out of him.

Candy slid to face her. "Have you seen Brenda? I am afraid that they will do something to her!"

Mabel's thoughts jumped to the brawny brunette. She had admitted to using drugs while in the Dreamworld. What if they tested her and found out? They would have another person, forced to stay in this place and answer their questions.

It occurred to her, that if they found out about the existence of something like Bill, it might turn their entire operation on its head.

"I haven't seen her, I'll ask to though…don't worry."

Candy nodded, playing with her blanket and licking her lips. She was hiding something.

"What's wrong?" Mabel asked.

Candy raised her face, her expression begging for forgiveness. "Mabel, I did not want to…but…but they made me. I h-had to, I had to."

Mabel tilted her head. "Wait, slow down. What did they make you do?"

Candy swallowed. "Th-they m-made me t-tell them about the-the old man."

Mabel's frowned deepened as she asked what old man Candy was referring to.

"The…the one with the c-cast on h-his arm. They said he could be very useful. I don't know what that means but he, he did not do as wrong as Mr. Pines."

"Wait, why would the government care about McGucket?"

Candy shook her head. "Not men in suits, they not care…no, was my-"

As she spoke, the door opened and a Korean couple stepped in. The man was in a brown jacket and jeans, while the woman was in a gray top with white slacks. Agent Lockhart stepped forward and spoke with an edge to his voice.

"Miss Cho, you are free to leave with your parents."

Candy swallowed. "Yes, my parents, they are ones who want to know of Mr. McGukit."

The woman said a single word in Korean, and Candy snapped to attention. She gave Mabel a quick hug before moving like a soldier to her parent's side. The man said something to her as they walked out and Lockhart kept the door open.

"Your guardian is here."

Mabel gaped at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. She didn't have any godparent or friends of the family. Still, she stood and followed him down the hall, past many, many "holding areas."

When she saw Wendy, answering some questions to a man in a lab coat, she bolted forward and surprised the redhead with a hug.

"Woah! Calm down there, everything is going to be okay."

 **[0]**

Cold water splashed on Stan's face, and his eyes opened.

Agent Gray was literally in his face. "You sure do have a great pain tolerance." He stood, and straightened his collar. "Make yourself presentable, Mr. Pines, we've got company."

By the time that Stan processed this, the door jerked open and harsh light struck. Mabel and the person he least expected to see entered. Wendy avoided his gaze and folded her coat arms, Mabel stared at his various bruises and bloody spots with whimpering confusion.

She glared at Agent Gray. "What did you do to him?"

The man removed his glove. "What's the matter? He's the reason your brother's in the infirmary, the reason that you have those scars on your stomach. Don't you want your parent's back?"

Mabel's kicked dog expression should have been enough to break the agent's stony demeanor. It didn't, and Gray shrugged, speaking with Lockhart as the younger entered the cell.

Lockhart tapped his watch. "You have five minutes for visiting."

Mabel nodded and rounded the table, squatting in front of Stan. She drew a hand across his face and he cringed multiple times when she touched his bruises. With swelling eyes, she looked up at him and swallowed.

"Stan…did you know that our parents had gone missing?"

He sighed and gave a quick nod.

"…did you…did you have anything to do with it?"

Stan spoke despite the pain it caused. "Mabel…I'm not the reason why they are gone...I'm just the person who tried to fix the situation." Mabel stood up. "How do I know you're not lying?"

Stan cast his gaze to the concrete floor of the cell.

"H-how do I know that you aren't just like Gideon? Or like all the other people we've met who turned out to be lying? You-you let this happen to Dipper…you kn-knew about Bill and you never once warned us about him…"

Stan groaned. "I thought he was dead…"

Mabel gave a crippling mockery of a laugh. "Oh, well that makes it all okay...how, how stupid do you think I am?"

Stan closed his eyes. "I don't think that you're stupid at all."

"W-well, y-you must have…you m-must have figured out how st-stupid I was to s-say and d-do all th-those things…j-just to get our trust…now Dipper's hurt because of you…and if W-Wendy hadn't showed up, I might have been spending the next three years of my life in a foster home."

Mabel gave a noise of frustration, desiring to say more but finding herself unable. She turned to Lockhart and asked to leave the cell.

As he led Mabel out, Wendy placed her hands in her pockets. "I told you that this would blow up in your face."

Stan scowled at her boots. "None of this pain would have happened if you hadn't run like a coward."

Wendy snarled. "I got out while I could, Stan. Not to mention, you _lied to me._ Yeah, I know about that…McGucket came to me after Summerween, he told me that The Machine? It doesn't bring people back from the dead Stan! That's a myth which _you invented_ to get more power!" She stepped closer. "You know, it's my fault for trusting a scumbag like you. But I at least thought…that you would have the decency to tell me what you actually had to offer."

As Wendy turned away Stan raised an eyebrow. "Since we're talking about lying, it's safe to assume that you've explained everything to Mabel, right?"

Wendy flinched and Stan smirked. "That's what I thought."

Wendy took a deep breath and said her peace as she opened the door. "Have fun rotting in here Stan."

 **[0]**

Robbie glared at the secretary as she returned his possessions to him, one at a time. He had just been shoved into a dark room, asked a number of invasive questions regarding his personal life and then shoved back out. As well, he had come to the conclusion that because he had not killed Gideon when he had the chance, a demon would not have sent Dipper into a coma.

His mood only brightened when he heard Mabel's voice, and he turned to give her a smile. That smile immediately was replaced with a grimace when he recognized who stood behind her, guiltily inspecting the floor.

Mabel noticed the animosity in the air and coughed before she spoke. "Robbie…I know that you might umm, have negative feelings towards Wendy. And that's totally understandable…but she has already offered to act as my guardian until my-my parents are found…and we need all the help we can get."  
Robbie wanted to disagree, to claim that the redhead was untrustworthy. To tell about the time he had caught his girlfriend in hushed conversation with Stan. To tell about the fact that she was clearly an accomplice in the charges sent Stan's way.

Instead, he grumbled something about needing sleep and turned away. She was right, and he was too afraid that the demon would be hunting them down, one by one, to reject assistance in reviving Dipper and dispelling the monster.

He asked Mabel about Dipper and she told him that, according to what Lockhart had said, there was nothing which could have been immediately seen, which was wrong with him.

Somehow that was much, much worse than if they had found any physical damage.

Robbie sighed. "Alright, umm…" he glanced up at the agent who lurked behind Wendy and wondered if he needed to conceal his plans from him. He took Mabel by the shoulder and drew her away from Wendy and the agent. "Tomorrow, you come over to my house and I'll go through the books that Dipper lent me. There must be something which will help your brother."

She nodded, a glimmer of hope returning to her.

Robbie collected his things, cast one last glare at his ex and was lead into one of the trucks. He was unaware that, after the SBE dropped him off and he was allowed to walk home, Bergmann watched him from the safety of a nearby alleyway.

 **[0]**

Manda Ramirez opened her eyes.

She was sitting in the same cell which she had for the past two weeks. She breathed in and out, taking in her surroundings.

Her bruises, the result of intense interrogation, should have hurt as she stood up and made her way to the door. The pain didn't bother her, however. Not anymore, not after what the Hollow One had showed her.

Right at this moment, it was whispering to her, as those like it whispered to all the others down here. She looked side to side, her eyes focusing on the man who sat in a slump in the cell at the far end of the hall. Then she turned her attention to the soldier standing just outside her cell.

"You're making Gn'aak angry, Mr. Sandman…" She called out in a sing=song voice, speaking to no singular spot, but rather the whole world and all the eyes which watched it.

Her threat made the world giggle.

 **[0]**

Mabel was falling through a mass of blackness and rushing purple. Gold coursed through the liquid which she traversed in a terrifying mixture of soaring and tumbling. The world was blooming, consuming her and dissolving her flesh piece by piece. It was sickly tepid in temperature but made all of her bones feel frozen.

As she fell further, more and more of the nightmarish world was revealed. Diamond white pyramids rose from the slime below, the pinnacles of each glowing with blue fire. The purple stretched away to reveal massive gorge which stretched for as far as the eye could see. Little stick figures danced about on the surface of the world, writhing with the pain of the blue fire which refused to go out.

A sound reached her, a high pitched growl. Then the gorge began to move, up and down, back and forth, and with these movements, she realized that it was not a chasm. It was a mouth. Bronze trees toppled into the abyss as she was deafened and the atmosphere stripped away her flesh.

She held warped eyes in front of her face as she plummeted into the darkness.

 **"Remember ShootingStar, not all objects cremate in the mesosphere. And asking for a friend can have dangerous magnitudes."**

Mabel jerked awake, tears rushing to her eyes. Dipper had been down there in the darkness, struggling between the jaws of something which was consuming him. As she stared at the hotel room wall, she realized that her memory of being consumed by Bill was exactly what her brother must be feeling at the moment.

Lockhart sat in the corner, raising an eyebrow at her distress. Apparently, he didn't sleep.

Wendy sat up in the other bed. She was dressed in her undershirt and some boxers. Concern covered her face, and Mabel got the feeling that she looked like a ghost.

"Are you okay?"

Mabel gave no verbal response. She just crawled out of her bed, skin still crawling at with the same awful feeling she had been given when Bill pulled her into his body. Her ears were filled with whispers which made her head grow hot and hurt.

She collapsed onto Wendy's bed, and the older teen wrapped her arms around shoulders and pulled her onto her lap. The redhead reached over and snapped off the light.

"It's okay…get some rest…tomorrow will be better."

Mabel stared at darkened ceiling, feeling Lockhart's eyes on her. The whispers slowly faded as she closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep.

 **[0]**

Gideon glared across the desk at his competitor.

Preston Norwood sighed and adjusted the clock. He titled his head, his face framed by the rays of sunlight that had just begun to between the window shades. He had always preferred to stay in the shadows and this occasion was no different. Gideon could barely see him given the lighting of the room.

"If you think that this assumption will pay off…you are going to be sorely mistaken."

Gideon giggled, sounding a lot like the demon he'd summoned. "I know that it will pay off. It's about time that this town had someone to unify all the freaks and criminals, and that person should be me."

Preston bristled. Notwithstanding his appearance, the warlock's manner was still befitting a child's. A spoiled, coy child.

"No, it shouldn't."

Gideon frowned and stood, his eyes glowing with teal energy. _"Excuse me? I could tear you apart, here and now…"_

Preston shook his head stiffly. "If the old ones had wanted you in power, do you really think they would have chosen my family to found the town? No, you are just a puppet who has overestimated his worth."

Gideon snarled and lifted a bony finger, energy exiting and fluctuating around Preston. In return, Preston's eyes blinked with golden light and his breathing took on a luminous quality.

 _"I would suggest that you quit…right about now…"_ He said through closed teeth.

Gideon seethed, angry that his magic wasn't working properly. _"I will tear down everything you own, Norwood. I will burn this town to the ground if I have to get its power."_

With that, he turned away and Preston sighed. He had hoped that they might be able to conduct themselves in a fashion befitting gentlemen. Now he was going to have to get his hands dirty.

 **[0]**

As Wendy picked up bagels, Mabel texted Robbie and asked where his house was. He gave a response which shocked her, but she went along with it anyway.

She dressed in the bathroom, putting on her favorite sweater (fuchsia with a rainbow in the center) and looking herself in the eye via the mirror. The rings of sleeplessness lay beneath each of her eyes, but she ignored them.

She was feeling good about today. The birds were singing, the sun was shining. Today she was going to get her brother back, or at least, get on the track of getting her brother back.

As she stepped back out, she frowned to find that Lockhart was typing something down. He adjusted is sunglasses.

Clearing her throat, she gained his ticked off attention.

"What?" He asked as though she were going to ask him to flush the toilet for her.

Mabel folded her arms. "Why are you like this?"

Lockhart twitched. "What do you mean?"

She gave a vague gesture to his entire form. "You so much about doing your job that you are completely apathetic to other people's emotions."

He gave a crooked smile. "Spoilers, that's most people."

She frowned. "I don't believe that."

He turned away. "Well then, you are in for a disappointment. People care about doing their jobs and getting on with their lives. That's why no one cares about Global warming, that's why no one cares about this place. That's why no one will care when you are gone."

Her frown deepened. "You care."

"No, I don't." He replied as he checked the parking lot and watched Wendy return with a bag.

"You said no one cared about this place. But you and your partner…the two of you must want to stop the disappearances right? Why would you work in the government, if you didn't want to help people?"

He snapped. Whipping towards her with a slasher smile which showed that he had just a few too many teeth, he removed his sunglasses, revealing two very red irises. "Power. That's the reason anyone does anything. Power over their life or the lives of others. This is a means to an end."

Mabel remained unfazed. "I still don't believe you. You were uncomfortable with locking me up for no reason, you were worried about your partner. That means you still have empathy…even if you're not completely human, that's fine. There's nothing perfect about being human. That's what makes being alive worth it."

He fumed. "Oh, shut up. I swear to god, I shouldn't have to deal with punks like you. You think the world is all rainbows and sunshine? I've seen things which would make you break down sobbing."

She tilted her head. "Of course, there is bad stuff in the world. What's your point?"

He returned the sunglasses to his face and turned away. But she caught his expression. What he had seen wasn't _bad_ , it was crushing. Not evil, but unfathomable. Something which could not be fought, something which did not abide moral lines.

Her skin felt like it was crawling again. Like she was back in that claustrophobic madness which dwelled within Bill's form.

Wendy opened the door before curiosity destroyed them both and Mabel leaped to explain the plan to her. Wendy wasn't happy about visiting Robbie, but nodded along and offered Lockhart a bagel.

He gave his response as he exited the room. "You can eat on the way. Let's just get this spiritual mumbo-jumbo out of the way…"

Wendy gave Mabel a quizzical look as to the man's clear yearning to leave and Mabel promised to explain later.

 **[0]**

Robbie lived in an abandoned chapel, which lay at the base of Mount Faith. He had long since destroyed any relics of the faith and replaced them with curtains, sectioning off different areas of the building. In a great stone casket, one in the basement of the building, he kept the book Dipper had given him, along with the anti-demon objects.

When he received Mabel's call that she was coming, he was in the middle of examining the section on dream demons. Placing a dog ear on the page, he returned the book inside and climbed the rotting staircase.

"Okay…yes…I'll have something ready by the time you get here…"

As he spoke, excitement bubbling in his heart that he might be able to repent for failing so miserably at the task his sister had bestowed on him, the bomb which Bergmann had placed inside the chapel while he slept last night, was remotely triggered.

It ticked away, twenty minutes away from going off.

Robbie changed into the second pair of clothes he owned and removed the tome regarding demons from the casket. He had just stepped out onto the porch of the chapel, ready to greet the approaching car, driven by that same stone-faced agent, when the bomb reached ten seconds.

He barely had time to step off the chapel and begin his analysis of the text, when the building exploded. Splinters shot everywhere, the book in his arms catching on fire at the same time that he did. The breath was forced out of him, as he was sent into the mud from the blast. Pain seared his stump of a left arm and he screamed as she struggled to wiggle out of the surrounding flames.

Half-deafened by the blast, he was pulled from the ground by Wendy, her scent unmistakable. Mabel was screaming and the agent was on the phone, as though this sort of thing happened all the time.

When he awoke, it was in a hospital room. There was screaming at the end of his bed, Wendy spitting back the venom which Tambry was losing on her. Mabel was in the corner, staring at the floor and gripping her knees. If she'd rocked forward and backward, she would have no doubt been the perfect poster child for traumatized children.

The agent stood next to her, totally apathetic to the lashing out of the teenage girls. Although, if they kept it up, he looked just annoyed enough to maybe pull out a gun and send them out of the room.

Robbie wheezed and the room grew silent. Tambry bolted over to him, saying something which he was having trouble hearing. Mabel walked over to him, asking him to forgive her. He didn't know what she meant, but it was clear she blamed herself for his removed arm as well as his burns and fucked up ear.

Doctor ushered them all out, but not before Wendy could cast one last mournful look towards him. Pity had never been so acidic.

The doctor bent over him and managed a smile. "You're very lucky Mr. Valentino, with some rest and a hearing aid, you will be good as new."

Robbie doubted this but knew better than to argue.

When the man left, he lay back down and apologized to his sister, for failing her once again, as the painkillers pulled him back into sleep.

 **[0]**

Pacifica had awoken, surrounded by photos of Mabel. Despite the strange warmth they gave her, she had stuffed them into the file to which they belonged, and placed that file next to the one for Dipper.

Then her daily routine began. She'd showered, dressed, and fixed her hair. By the time that she was headed downstairs, her mother was on the couch, discussing something ominous with the person she least wanted to see.

It was Gideon, albeit, a much older Gideon. He had to be in his seventies, despite the fact that he had never sounded or looked more energetic. Every word he said was serrated, ready to cut open the world for his liking. Her mother was walking on eggshells in their conversation.

They were discussing the ownership of her mother's little "club" on the lake, as well as the transition of the money made there.

When he spotted her (unfortunately) a smile crossed the old man's face. "Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine."

The way he said it, she was unsure if he was being sarcastic or just creepy.

"Uh…thanks." She replied as she speed-walked to the door.

"Say good morning to Mabel for me!" He called, before returning his attention to her mother.

Even as she tread out the front door, she could feel his eyes on her.

She put on her ear buds and jogged into town, in accordance with her schedule. She had reached main street, when she spotted Mabel, entering the Greasy Ladle with a one of those not-really-CIA agents behind her (one of the two who her father had led around and her mother had flirted with), and with the Irish chick who had threatened Mavis and Brianna to stay away from Mabel so many weeks ago.

She waited until they had found a table, to enter and wave at Mabel. The brunette didn't see her, too busy leaning on the redhead the moment that they sat down. She had clearly missed sleep and her morale had hit an all-time low.

Mabel ordered something from Susan and then left her head on the table surface, while the redhead gave an unhelpful smile and the agent stood next to the booth with a constant expression of displeasure.

"Hey, Mabel!" She called, telling herself that she definitely was not jealous of this other girl in the least and burying any thoughts which indicated to the contrary.

Mabel raised her gaze and gave Pacifica a halfhearted smile. "Oh…hey, Paz…sorry I look like this…a lot of crap has happened."

The redhead scratched Mabel's scalp. "You also didn't get very much sleep…"

Mabel groaned in response.

Pacifica had known that the government vans were headed for the Mystery Shack, but had assumed Mabel would be glad to have her creep of an uncle out of her life. She was going to sit down in the booth, but the agent stopped her.

"I have to check your purse, Ma'am."

Pacifica balked, before shoving the purple fabric into his hands. She spoke tightly as she moved to Mabel's side. "Keep it."

As Lockhart glared at the back of her head, she sat down and placed her hands on the table. "What happened?"

Mabel gave hearty sigh and sat up, the dark circles under her eyes almost as unnerving Pacifica as hearing Mabel speak in a sarcastic tone. "Well, for starters, I had a demon pull me _into him_ , which is still giving me nightmares. What happened after that? Oh yeah, my uncle got arrested by the shadiest bunch of people who were ever given badges! Apparently, I've been living with a mass murderer, who probably knocked off my parents and has some weird fixation on me and Dipper. That means I'm just as stupid and naive as everything in this town has been telling me since the first day I got here."

Mabel removed her sweater, tossing it to the side and glaring at the table. "Then, my brother collapsed into a catatonic state, so that leaves me without anything to go on. And maybe you aren't aware Paz, but Dipper is the one who always has a plan, he's the one who helps me fix everything. Oh, yeah, and now I can't go to the bathroom without this guy-"

She jerked a thumb in the direction of Mr. Suit. "-standing outside of the stall. I can't eat or drink without him testing it, and the alternative is that he and his partner are going to lock me up and frame me for murder!" Her voice took on a self-inflicted cruelty. "Better yet, one of my friends almost died and is in the burn ward because he tried to help me!"

Again, she collapsed onto the table. "So altogether…this has been the worst week of my life and nothing short of a miracle is going to turn this around."

Pacifica watched as the town folk surrounding cast disturbed glances the way of Mabel, before trying to return to their meals. She took a moment to stare at the agent, who was completely apathetic to Mabel's horrible position. Then she looked to the redhead and noticed her uncomfortableness with this list of events.

She had done something, to contribute to this, hadn't she?

It didn't matter. Not right now. Right now Mabel needed to be helped and Pacifica couldn't do that if she didn't understand the girl's position.

Sliding over to Mabel, Pacifica struggled with knowing what to do. There was no going around it, she would have to initiate some body contact. She steeled herself, hoping to convince her body that Mabel was not a threat before placing a hand on Mabel's back.

Slowly, she drew the hand up and down, hushing Mabel and promising that she would help any way she could. It worked too well, and Pacifica froze when Mabel leaned on her, too exhausted and downtrodden to attempt anything else.

Susan returned with some sandwiches, asking what the matter was when she saw Mabel's quivering form and heard her squeaky little cries.

Pacifica thanked Susan for the food and was prepared to pay her. However, the old woman insisted that it was "No charge", before hurrying off to take orders.

Pacifica turned back to Mabel and slid back into the booth. She was going to ask Mabel what problem she wanted to handle first, but found that the brunette had fallen asleep. She actually looked very cute asleep, her little snores contributing to the picture of innocence.

Pacifica was about to ask the redhead for her name, but then she heard "One slice of Blueberry pie, please. And umm, can you dribbles some maple syrup on it."

McGucket. He was sitting at the diner counter, in a sharp suit which made him almost unrecognizable.

Susan responded with a giggle. "Of course, Fiddleford. The answer has always and will always be yes."

The redhead stood and approached him, saying something and receiving a hug from the short, old man. Pacifica glanced at Mabel, then at the agent, before slipping back out of the booth and dawdling close enough to hear their conversation, but not close enough for either to realize they were being listened to.

"Wendy! It feels like it's been months!" He only ceased embracing her waist after a moment of uncomfortableness on the part of the teen.

"Wendy" sighed and spoke as she scratched the back of her neck. "It's only been three weeks…"

McGucket smiled. "Well, you know the saying…time sure does drag on when everything is going terribly wrong…"

Wendy gave him a skeptical look. "I've never heard that one. Just that time flies when you're having fun…what's with the suit?"

His mood changed from barely concealed sorrow to jubilance. "Well…I've been hired by a company to work on computer design!"

Wendy nodded. She was clearly happy that the old mechanic was no longer reliant on Stan Pines. "Congratulations!"

He was about to say something else when the door opened, and six men in red robes entered. On the front of their hoods, was a golden eye. In their hands, they clutched metal crosses and pokers. Pacifica's eyes widened and she pressed herself against the counter as they passed, headed for Mabel.

The agent blocked their way. "Now, what do you gentlemen want?"

The tallest pointed a bony finger at Mabel. " _Her_."

Seeing which way this was going, everyone besides Wendy and McGucket cleared out of the building. Unamused, the agent removed a gun from his pocket. "I'm afraid that I cannot allow that."

The tallest giggled. "Then we will have to use forceful measures…"

It was a blur of motion, Wendy leaped forward, removing an axe from her belt and slamming it against one of the cultist's head. As his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, the diner erupted in havoc.

The agent slammed someone into the wall. Wendy kicked another in the chest. McGucket sighed and opened his briefcase, removing a small metal device. He injected one of the cultists in the neck with it, and the man staggered to the floor, writhing with electricity.

Then Pacifica saw that someone had grabbed Mabel.

She bolted forward, a rage bursting alive in her stomach. Her shoe connected with the man's chin and her hand whipped out, slamming into the neck of another assaulter. No one was going to hurt her friend.

Mabel opened her eyes and watched as more hood wearing bastards flooded the building. They jumped onto of the agent, slamming him to the floor and calling him a fascist as they clawed at his face with their overgrown, dirt caked nails.

Pacifica yanked the diner window open and grabbed her hand.

"Run, okay? Run and don't look back." She insisted.

Mabel nodded, as she dropped out the window and stumbled across the wet dirt. Pacifica watched her disappear into the woods, before jerking back to the cultists and colliding her foot with one of the idiots which had just stood up.

McGucket cocked a revolver at the ceiling and silenced the brawl with a firing. As everyone paused to look his way, Pacifica realized how regal he looked despite his goofy appearance. He had a power to his gaze which drew the eye and kept the mind at a sluggish pace. If she hadn't known better, she would have said he was a hypnotist.

"Friends, neighbors…is this really what you want to do? To assault children and an officer of the law, so that you can fulfill the will of a madman, who cares nothing about you each or our community? Please, I implore you…lay down your arms. If you truly have faith, then you will place your lives in fate." He stepped down. "Our town has been through more than any outsider can ever understand…but we have survived. Have the hope of our founders…and surrender yourselves to providence."

Pacifica expected them to laugh at him.

Instead, all of the cultists lay down their weapons and put their hands behind their heads. The agent stood and cast a glare to Wendy.

"Your friend is very persuasive…" he said with an air of suspicion.

Wendy turned her eyes to McGucket, who was staring at the cultists with sympathy. She was going to ask him something when Pacifica tapped her shoulder.

"Oh, hey, sorry we haven't been introduced. I'm-"

"We need to find Mabel." Pacifica insisted.

Wendy realized that the girl had escaped and nodded, grabbing McGucket and explaining the situation while Pacifica cast one last distasteful look her way and sprinted out of the messy diner.

Her hands gripped Mabel's sweater as she resisted the urge to smell it.

 **[0]**

Mabel stumbled through the woods, trying to keep herself together as she cast worried glances over her shoulder. Her legs hurt and her throat was burning, but she didn't want to stop. If she did, she might be forced to think about how horrible her life had become. Then she would have to return, to force herself to fix it.

 _"Tonight, tonight, while I'm holding you so near. Tonight, tonight, what I'd give if I could hear."_

The sound of Bill's voice reached her at the same time that the snapping of his needle-like hands did. He strode out from behind a massive tree and continued his odd singing from across the river. As she stared at him, he pretended that she was nothing. _  
"The three little words that would thrill the heart of me. Just whisper, 'I love you and will eternally.' Tonight, tonight, more than any time before. This heart of mine seems to need you so much more."_

His head shifted to stare at her, although she got the idea that he had been watching her the whole time. His vision took in more information than any satellite ever would.

 _"The touch of your hands, the thrill of your embrace. Keep saying that no one will ever take your place. While looking up afar, I wished upon a star. And prayed for a blessing from above. Now, if my wish should come true until our life is through. I'll have you, dear, to have, to hold and to love."_

He finally spoke, no smugness in his voice, but instead the hint of being angered. _"Locky didn't allow me to finish my proposal…"_

Mabel turned away. "Forget it…I don't care what you do to me, I'm not making a deal with a demon." She quivered, worse than before. "I-I'm not stupid! I'm not going to do the one thing which every piece of media in my entire life has told me not to."

Bill began to levitate. _"Aw, c'mon ShootingStar. I'm not the reason for your dilemmas…remember, Gideon beckoned me. He's the one whose been making your life miserable, he's accountable for the Trickster's victims. He's the reason that your brother is insentient right now and why you're in this position."_

Bill twirled his cane childishly. _"I'm your one real ally, the person who wants to yank the rug out from under him and fragment his control of this town. If you had let me eradicate your uncle's resolution I could have used him to off Gideon. But you didn't want that. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too. Well, if you don't want to make a transaction to restore the quality of your life, that's your call."_ He turned away, unable to stop himself from adding. _"I just thought you were going to cease being a_ spoiled princess _and consider someone else for once."_

His voice turned accusatory as his eye turned back to bore through her and stare at all her naked desires and impulses with microscopic certainty. _"Gideon's not the only reason for PineTree's current state._

Mabel didn't turn around. "Wh-what do you want anyway?"

 _"Nothing much. Just a murder."_

She whirled towards him. "Why would I ever do that? Why would you want me specifically to kill someone for you?"

Bill's eye gleamed. _"Because you're ShootingStar. You and your brother were made for great things!"_

"I don't want to be special!" She declared. "I want to be back home in Piedmont, ignored by my parents, made fun of in school, if only so that I won't have to deal with _things_ like you!"

Bill shrugged. _"Some are born into greatness…"_ He swiveled with a step, his fingers snapping and causing the same kitchen knife he'd been earlier doing parlor tricks with to materialize on the river bed. It glinted, beckoning her small, innocent hands. _"…others have greatness lodged in their rib cage. You think Phineas Gage told the iron pole which impaled him that he'd prefer not to be the subject of medical study? If he had, iron poles don't listen to Homo sapiens anyway."  
_ Bill turned away as a voice reached her and pulled her out of dreamland and back to the wakey-world.

Pacifica was bent over her, inspecting her face for injuries as concern crossed her angelic face. "Mabel? Are you okay?"

Sitting up, Mabel nodded as she rubbed her eyes. "I'm fine…I must have-"

Her eyes locked on the knife lying on the bed of the stream. It gleamed in the dirty water, well deteriorated but also still sharp enough to cut through bone. It was real. She could reach out and pet it. Run it across her palms even.

"-nodded off."

Mabel realized that she was unraveling. _Ha. That was funny, spend all that time keeping your brother sane, only for all that stress to come down on you like cats and dogs._

Pacifica let out a breath. She had been worried.

 _Wasn't that adorable? Scared of that which would be her downfall. Rod Serling couldn't make that kind of irony._

"Well, those weirdos have been arrested…I should probably get you back to that government guy, huh?"

 _Or you could take that knife and I could die and you could die and the government guy and the Irish chick can scream when they follow the trail of red from down river. They could call it a suicide pact but the hobo's who make a folk song about us would know it was really an escape. You from the scars, and me from insanity._

 _Heh, well, if this inner monolog is anything to go by, it is too late for one of us._

"Yes. That…that seems like a g-good idea…" Mabel stood up and dusted off her skirt, and leaned forward, kissing Pacifica on the cheek and speaking as she set off insights of Lockhart and his world of paperwork and rules and holding areas and unblinking red eyes. "Thanks for looking for me."

Pacifica shook herself and half ran to keep up with the taller girl. She spoke with a mixture of confusion and affront. "Well, what was I going to do?"

 _Leave me here to terminally dehydrate. Go back to your obviously miserable life and forget that I ever existed. Maybe pause to check your text messages while I fail at doing mental calisthenics with a demon who is going to get his way one way or another._

Mabel shrugged, rejecting all these answers and opting for uncomfortable silence. It was fun to watch this girl attempt to gain x-ray vision and gawk through Mabel's skull at all the wheels which were moving.

 _Ha! Jokes on you, my skull is made of lead. Here, let me open it up for you and poison you._

The moment that they found Lockhart, she had only four words for him.

"Take me to Dipper."

 **[0]**

Gideon stood at the base of the hill, staring up at the mansion in which the Idonists celebrated their stupidity. The Norwood's had been given their chance. Both of them.

Now it was time to follow through with his threat. So help him, he lied more than most people on the planet. But when he threatened others, he never lied about his capabilities. He closed his eyes and envisioned a fire, a great, magnificent fire which sent smoke billowing into the air and sent individuals leaping from the windows and into the water for escape. Then he imagined his sister.

All for her. All for Mabel.

He raised a hand, opened his eyes, and grinned as fire consumed the mansion. Flakes of ash filled the air and polluted the water as he listed to the screams inside. Stupid, little pigs. They would no better than to challenge his authority after this.

 **[0]**

Dipper's vitals were normal, the doctor told Mabel. The doctor had not wanted to reveal anything, but Lockhart had convinced the doctor that she was the proper security clearance.

So, the doctor went on with the disturbing information. He had no skull injuries, no brain injuries either. They could not identify a toxin within him or a disease. Nothing could explain his symptoms of head trauma.

By all accounts, he should have been standing right beside her, cracking sarcastic jokes about the government's capacity to spend tax dollars on things no one cared about. He should have been plotting out how they were going to escape this nightmare.

But he wasn't.

And, unfortunately, she knew why. For as long as her brother existed, he posed a danger in Gideon's mind for her attention (and in a weird, serial killer type way, her affections). Even if she saved her twin from his current state without taking Bill's deal, then Gideon would continue trying to kill him.

There was no escape.

When no one was looking, she crouched beside his bed and leaned her forehead on the side of his bed. "Please, Dipper…please…I need your help here, I can't solve this one on my own and I think…I don't think I can trust my own mind very much anymore.

Lockhart had another call, leaning again the wall and nodding every few seconds. Apparently, they had given up on the seven-foot boundary.

She felt herself unravel a little more and she closed her eyes, imagining Dipper as he'd looked when they were three. Smiling and inquisitive, chasing butterflies and eager for museum visits.

"Please…I'm just asking for a little help here…not much…just one of those 'ah-ha' lightbulb moments so that I can fix everything." She clasped her hands together. "Please."

Dipper's breathing went on the same as normal, and Mabel felt like crying, even though her eyes felt dry and irritated from too much of just that.

She couldn't kill somebody, she wouldn't. No matter what, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she crossed that line. From a very young age, she had believed that everyone deserved a chance to redeem themselves that executing someone was unnecessary no matter what they had done.

There had to be another way. There was always another way.

Then it occurred to her, where had Dipper gotten his ideas? The Journal. Surely, there must have been some passage in that book regarding a situation similar to this one? Something which would awaken her brother so that they could face Gideon and his forces together?

"Thanks, bro!" She kissed him on the forehead and sprinted over to Agent Lockhart.

"If I tell you everything that happened in the mall, will you take me to the Shack?"

At first, he was confused by the proposal. Then he nodded.

Mabel had never been more relieved.

 **[0]**

Stan awoke again to cold water. As he regained is senses, he wondered how long he had been in this cell. Days, for all he knew. The brutality which he'd faced had been doled out over and over again.

Still, he had not revealed the information which they wanted to know. He couldn't. If they started interfering, it could be disastrous.

"You've got a visitor, Pines."

The door opened and he raised his head (which throbbed like dead weight) and face McGucket. The man was well dressed and wearing a well-worn look of concern.

"You've really stepped in it this time." He said with that soft Southern accent which calmed the pain in Stan's skull.

Spitting out a little more blood, Stan didn't bother to respond with words.

Fids smirked. "I've seen you worse though…heh, and I guess you've seen me even better than this…"  
Stan slumped his head forward and spoke aloud his wondering. "You sound like you've got your story fixed."

Fids shook his head. "I hardly remember anything besides my son and my father…and Georgia…and you, Stan. Everything else is gone. Heh, not sure if it has something to do with all the satanics which your niece and nephew were up to in the living room…but I was out back, just staring at the flowers and all of sudden…my thoughts became much more straightforward."

He removed a suitcase. "Stan, the last thing I want is you, the person who saved me from myself…to be imprisoned." He sighed. "Your brother…ruined my life...he caused my family, and so many others, such death and misery. More than can be forgiven. He is the reason that my son is dead and that I spent years, wallowing in filth and dementia."

Stan's eyes widened. Fids had assumed he and his brother were the same people for the past two decades. This sudden distinction not only surprised him, it made him feel as though the rabbit had hypnotized him into pulling it out of a rabbit.

"…but you repaired me. You gave me a reason to be alive. You have nothing but good intentions, I can think of no one who less deserves to be locked up." He placed his suitcase on the table and adjusted his collar. "I have a deal which should get you out of this position. But you will have to postpone your plans."

Stan sighed. He knew exactly what Fids was proposing. He hated the idea but had to admit that the computer scientist was being pragmatic.

"Alright. But first, we're going to need for Corduroy to agree."

Fids sighed, expecting as much.

 **[0]**

Wendy had not been allowed to enter the Shack grounds (again, the contamination excuse), so she stood beside the car as Lockhart insisted that she follow directly behind him as he led her inside.

It had taken all of five minutes to write down about the ghosts and her possession, and she hoped her sloppy handwriting wouldn't anger Lockhart or Gray. But she felt her anxiety dying away as she approached the house she had stayed in for the past two months. Admittedly, it looked terrible with soldiers and people in lab coats running about, testing this and that and stacking objects outside for categorization.

Still, the knowledge that soon this would all be over, was enough to add a spring to her step. They climbed the stairs, Mabel bolting ahead with the hopes of finding the Journal and being to read out of it before Lockhart got his hands on it.

He called after her, ticked off by this behavior. She ignored him and climbed into the attic. On the one hand, given how much these guys had torn up the house she was surprised they had not found the journal before. On the other hand, her brother had picked an incredibly good spot to hide something, the kind of "hide in plain sight" stuff that he loved.

There, in the attic, she opened the stain glass window and climbed out onto the roof. The rotting shingles creaked under her sneakers and she took a deep breath. At ground level, soldiers and scientists were staring up at her with a mixture of astonishment and confusion.

Lockhart called again. And again, she continued, crawling up the shingles like a gecko. Reaching the part of the roof where a bird's nest resided against a hole in the roof, she reached underneath and slid a large red book out. Sitting upright, she flipped it open and read it in the afternoon sun.

It was unintelligible. Just a series of squiggles and symbols scrawled without regard to consistency or logic. If there was any pattern behind what inscribed the dull pages, then Mabel lacked the tools to divine it.

How had Dipper ever understood any of this? He had never bothered to teach her any of the codes, not that she had ever asked to learn them. She hadn't thought it essential.

In her frustration, she threw the book. It sailed through the air and landed in the hands of her bodyguard. He briefly flipped through the pages, before raising an eyebrow.

"This is the book with all the answers in it?"

Mabel swallowed. She didn't need to answer for a smile to spread across his normally stoic face. It was like a conquistador discovering the fountain of youth.

"Well, I am needed somewhere. C'mon."

He offered his hand and she ignored it, sliding down the roof tiles and dropping in through the window.

As she sat in the back of the car, she heard sirens echoing through the town. Smoke was rising in the distance. She didn't care.

From the front seat, the book sat, mocking her.

Wendy was saying something but she wasn't listening. Her phone, they had given her back her cell phone after they had no doubt bugged it. It buzzed in her pocket, against something sharp and metal which she did not remember picking up.

The phone held a message. The sharp metal thing had a message to, but its message whispered into her, piercing all barriers.

That's what sharp metal things did anyway, right? _Pierce._

The car was parked next to the lake, and in the corner of her eye, she could see the mansion on the island, falling apart. It was ravaged by flames. People were being fished out of the water, some alive, some not. Obviously, the fire department could not reach the house itself, as they did not have command of a boat and by the time one was provided, anyone inside would have died from a lack of oxygen if not from the heat.

Wendy told her to stay put and exited the car as well. Lockhart was speaking with someone in a suit, Wendy was running into the water to help in the rescue effort. The sharp metal thing buzzed again.

It was as she inspected the carpeting of the car, a world of dead gray fabric, that it occurred to her the one way out of this.

She opened the door and while moving at a gentle pace, she disappeared into the forest.

 **[0]**

Gideon laughed and popped open a two-hundred-year-old champagne bottle. He giggled at the appearance of the foam, listening to the town radio as it warned of the fire which had begun striking the forest. Arson was so much messier than other crimes, sometimes getting out of hand. Ah well, perhaps the destruction would send a message to the Fey.

As he poured a single glass and toasted to the Bill Cipher, a knock came from the door. Annoyed at his employees for daring to disturb him, he stomped over to the door. He still had a youthful strength which transcended his elder frame. And now that he was taller than most, he had taken to physical abuse of those who caused him discomfort as a seal takes to water.

But he paused his words as he opened the door, his eyes widening and his mouth falling over. It was like a dream. Mabel Pines was standing in front of him, completely naked, her hands to her sides. A gust of autumn wind caused gooseflesh to ripple across her beautiful, perfect body, her nipples growing erect as she stared up at him, emotionless.

"Gideon, may I please come in?"

He shook his head. "Y-you can't be real, you mu-must be some k-k-kind of shuh-shapeshifter or m-mirage…"

She shook her head. "Touch me, Gideon. You'll see that I am real."

He looked at her again, eyes latching onto the scars on her stomach and the birthmark patches which held to her left thigh and right kidney. Those were details no shapeshifter would have known.

"Gideon…may I please come in?"

This time, he nodded, wiping the drool from his mouth as she stepped inside and closed the door. So many times he had awoken from dreams of this nature and brought himself to an incredible climax. He practically whimpered as she drew a hand across his neck.

"Gideon…I will be your wife, your lover, your slave…but you must promise me that you will cure my brother and leave me alone in exchange. I can never truly be yours if he is asleep."

Gideon shook his head. "N-no! He'll tr-try to take y-you from me…"

Mabel nodded. "He will…at first…" Her hand latched onto his member and this time, he really did whimper, the sound coming out in the raspy voice which did not belong to his mental state. "…but then I will tell him that I truly love you. It will drive him mad Gideon, it will make him so frustrated and upset…but while he is unconscious, I must look after him first and you second. If he is awake, you can adopt us both from the foster home and I will be yours…always and eternal."

Panting, Gideon nodded, turned on almost as much by her as the idea of locking that idiotic youth alone in a room next to his own so that the boy could listen as Gideon brought his sister to an orgasm over and over. It would be delicious, it would make every waking moment so much better.

He giggled. "Mabel, what made you realize my love?"

She grinned as they collapsed onto Gideon's bed, and she drew a hand along his cheek. "I realized how pointless it was to fight it…I've always wanted a true love, and you're the only person Gideon…the only one who really, and truly loves me. I realized that you're too powerful to beat and that my brother will always ruin his life by fooling around where he's not supposed to. You're the only one Gideon, the only one who cares about me now, who hasn't been hiding things from me."

He nodded. "Mabel…I-I've dreamed about this moment…" He breathed in her scent and drew a hand through her hair. "…oh, I am going to make this night _heaven_ for you…"

She grew a little sad. "Yes, I know. I've also dreamed about this."

Her hand gripped his amulet and before he could protest, she tore it off with a face twisted with rage. Immediately, a coldness seized him. He fell off the bed, gasping for breath as every piece of him shriveled and cracked. More pain than he'd ever experienced struck him, rattling through each bone, infecting each cell. It was energy, rotting him from the inside out.

He stared up at his naked love, who returned his tear-blurred gaze with a passive expression.

He forced himself to speak, his voice coming out in painful rasps and a voice far too old. "M-Mabel…I…I could have helped you…I was going to change… for you."

She shook her head and responded in an exhausted voice. "No, you weren't Gideon. People don't change…especially people like you."

His heart sped up enough to send vibrations through his whole body, and finally, it exploded. Rigor mortis set in and his blood grew cold, causing his body to become even paler. Like a corpse he bloated and his stomach burst, sending blood and bile across the carpet. Mabel watched as his eyeballs shrunk and sputtered, and as his lungs puffed out poisonous air.

Mabel's tears only came, as he began shrinking and snapping, his body crushed by the force of too many years. When they did come, it was not in the sobbing of guilt, but by in little streaks. Her expression did not change, even as green chains clasped onto his soul and dragged him away. She did not grow anymore disturbed when Bill materialized over him and giggled at his position.

 _"Nice work ShootingStar!"_ Bill congratulated.

Gideon found that he had died but still had his consciousness and sight. He had returned to his nine-year-old form, with the only difference being that his skin was glowing and that slime was dripping out of his eye sockets. Golden shackles were latched to his wrists and ankles, connecting to one chain which was held in Bill's left hand.

The demon rolled his eye to face Gideon and stepped closer. _"Maybe next time you won't reach too far, Icarus. Oh, I forgot! THERE WON'T BE A NEXT TIME!"  
_

Gideon glanced between them, beyond confused. Then he saw the brand on Mabel's hand.

 _"Your fraternal unit should rouse soon, ShootingStar. In the meantime, InfinitySign and I have some business elsewhere!"_

Bill gave a light tug and the entire world shifted to darkness, Gideon being dragged away from his true love.

 **[0]**

Mabel stumbled out into the moonlight, staring up at the pale yellow full moon as she dressed. She was found later the next morning, at Dipper's side, begging him for clemency. Lockhart was mystified as to how she had found the bed without him.

The next day, he told her that her uncle wanted her.

It turned out, his criminal record had been wiped clean following him providing some information. Gray gave her back The Journal, telling her that it was about as useful as a child's finger painting. Stan's "deal" with the SBE apparently involved them releasing Dipper into his care as well, something which they were so reluctant to do that Mabel wondered what her uncle possibly could have offered them.

Dipper was moved to the town hospital, and Stan explained everything to her as they sat, waiting for a number of men in suits to return to the room. It was funny, she found that she really didn't care about his explanation. Dipper would have. But not her. Staying with a man who had blood on his hands, was better than entering the foster system and being separated from her brother.

She could tell that Stan wasn't lying, however, his explanation was as true as the bandages on his face. She only had one question for him when it was all said and done.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

He sighed. "I didn't think it was crucial to drag you through all this shit that way. I thought I could keep you safe." He squirmed. "I'm sorry for that."

Mabel slept that night without nightmares, for the first time in what felt like forever.

For the following weeks, she visited Dipper every morning, to check on his condition. With every passing day, her friends grew more concerned at her mental state, for how the visits wore on her. But none of them interfered. They didn't know what she did.

Bill had promised "soon." That meant, eventually, Dipper would wake up. Otherwise, he would have flipped the table on her and said that her brother would never wake up. Instead, he had said "soon", which could have meant decades given the demon's lifespan. But it meant that Dipper would wake up.

That she was sure of.

She stopped eating as much, spending most of her time sculpting. She slept more and more. Eventually, to deal with the nightmares about killing Gideon and being consumed by Bill, she spoke to Waddles. Keeping him with her at all times relieved the pit in her stomach sometimes and the crawling energy on her skin.

Sometimes, he talked back.

She didn't tell anybody about that, just like she didn't tell anybody why she knew Dipper would wake up. Because they locked up people who had done what she'd done.

Time crawled by. Things changed. Most things stayed the same.

Wendy made up with her brother and father. Tearful affair.

Candy and Brenda morphed into a singular unit. Always holding hands, Brenda often speaking for them both.

Pacifica taught her how to play golf better and Mabel faked smiles for her in return. The blond stopped hanging around with as many horrible people as well.

McGucket bought his own house with his new, well-paying job. He still stopped by the Shack every few days, mostly to catch up with Stan, but sometimes, he would give her an encouraging smile. If anyone would understand how the days were blurring and how unhinged she was becoming, it would be her.

Robbie bought an apartment too, and he forgave Wendy for abandoning him. Tambry moved in with him. Mabel began to teach him about sculpting, although she knew the only reason he put himself through it is because he felt like a big brother to her.

On the day of her birthday, Candy and Pacifica threw a party to surprise her. She put on a smile for them, and ate a slice of cake, even though it tasted like ash. Then, as the party was dying off, she slipped out the back door and found Stan leaning on the railing. He didn't say a word, he just offered her Dipper's present (a new baseball cap) and told her to be back before dark.

She walked the town, finding that people treated her more like them, now that she was broken by the mysteries which jaunted through the woods. Susan would always have a meal ready for her, while Tobias had become significantly less of a freak, one-time gently awakening her from Dipper's bedside and walking with her to Stan's car.

That time, they all watched her with sad eyes. They would have been disgusted if they knew what she had done if she had not taken to wearing gloves and hiding the mark on her hand.

When she walked through the hospital, she heard Dipper's voice. He was asking a nurse about where he was.

Her heart did a flip and she bolted down the hall, trying to tell herself that it must have been some kind of trick. But there, he was sitting up, asking the nurse why he had a stubble.

Then he saw her and must have immediately understood. Mabel jumped on him, holding and refusing to let go as he patted her back and cooed as he allowed her to sob into his hospital gown.

 **[0]**

There was one last thing to attend to. Dipper had to hear Stan's story, he needed to know if they should stay with Stan. Mabel was willing to enter the foster system if Dipper considered it reason as to staying with Stan.

So, sitting at the same table which Stan always used at the Greasy Ladle, Stan ordered a massive breakfast (Dipper was famished) and began to tell his story.

"When you two were five years old, your parents brought you up here…to stay here with me and my brother for a month. While you were here…my brother…who studied demons and the supernatural…he realized that Mabel's imaginary friend, "William", was actually a demon, whispering to her and umm, taking over her body."

Dipper frowned. "Wait, you have a brother?"

Stan shook his head. "No interrupting, this is a long story and uh, a painful one…if you want to hear it…you're going to have to say any questions until afterward."

Dipper slouched and scratched at his stubble, eliciting a giggle from his sister.

Stan drank a little coffee and continued. "So, he realized this and the two of us tried to afterward the demon from Mabel."

Dipper's eyes widened.

"Relax, it wasn't a medieval torture exorcism! We just tied her down and said a few words and umm, you were supposed to be sleeping Dipper…but you walked in on it and thought we were hurting her. You freaked out and the demon, having possessed Mabel…ran off with her. We had to explain what was happening and you calmed down. After a night of looking, McGucket found Mabel, but not before the demon had sent out a call to all his followers…they came from across the world…streaming into this town, in search of essentially their god. They believed that you and Mabel, were chosen, like, how God chose Mary to birth his child, you two were supposed to bring about the apocalypse for them."

Stan took another sip. "They killed my brother."

He let that sink in, before continuing. "…then they tried to kill your parents. But I...I had been funding my brother's experiments for a very long time with illegal practices."

"What kind of practices?" Dipper asked, his arms folded in front of him.

Stan smirked. "Some gambling rigs, but mostly, I just dressed up some shit as 'magical artifacts' and sold it to rich people who think that they are smarter than the tourists."

He chuckled. "I used the money to hunt down the cultists, one by one. Some of them are still around…but I didn't think that they posed a threat to the family. See, I knew I had to protect you and your parents…since I and my brother were identical and I am...legally speaking, supposed to be dead, I assumed his identity and turned the house into a tourist trap. No one would suspect me responsible for the organized crime if they saw me acting goofy and dressing up for a bunch of rubes." He cracked his neck. "Why else would I not be at The Shack and let you guys slack off so many times?"

Mabel swallowed and continued. "And the demon's followers…they are the ones who…who are the reason that mom and dad are…gone."

Dipper stared at the table. "And that's it?"

Stan shook his head. "I-I used a machine, to trap the demon inside Mabel's mind and then, blank her memory. I thought that would kill the demon. It didn't apparently because that demon was Bill…but because Mabel had total amnesia, I had to umm, blank your memory as well Dipper. Otherwise, one of you would have been traumatized and the other…would be ignorant. You were both little kids, you didn't deserve to deal with all that…so I returned you to your parents and I told them that you might be under surveillance. I guess I let my guard down, or they did, but after I brought you two here, your parents disappeared. Yes, I broke into your house, but only to figure out what happened to them."

Susan arrived and refilled his mug. He drank a little more before making a tired grunt. "So…if you wanna leave, just tell me and I'll take you to the foster home myself. I'm sorry I kept all this from you."

Dipper stared at his plate and the syrup which oozed off of the bacon. "And is there anything else which you are hiding from us?"

Stan raised his gaze and sniffed. "No."

Dipper shifted. "Well…then we should stay with you. You know about the supernatural, and since it's obvious that Bill is after us…"

Mabel winced. Neither of them noticed.

"…then you are the best person to stay with."

Stan smiled. "Alright…I'll get you two registered for school tomorrow."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Hey! No fair, we just got Dipper back and now we have to go to school?"

Stan rolled his eyes and took a bite out of his Belgian Waffle. "Mabel, you and your brother have been through hell. I expect you can survive a little more high school."

She crossed her arms and Dipper was about to tease her with a strip of bacon when he registered the acquisition. "Wait, it's the end of summer?"

Stan nodded.

"So…I'm sixteen?"

Mabel beamed. "That's right! I forgot to give you your gift, I was so busy telling everybody and getting you out of the hospital!" She reached into her purse and removed a small blue package.

"Happy birthday, bro."

Staring at it, then her, he tore the present open and frowned as he removed a small, white and blue trucker's cap, with the universal symbol for a conifer on the front.

"The SBE confiscated your old one…so uh, yeah…I figured that you could use a new hat."

Dipper tentatively placed the hat on his head. For a long moment, he stared at the table. Then a smile broke across his face.

"Thanks, Mabes."

Stan shrugged. "I think it looks terrible on you."

Mable threw a hard-boiled egg at him.

 **[0]**

Brenda puckered her lips and made kissing noises, before hanging up on Candy. She closed her phone and slipped it into her pocket as she approached the man responsible for her addiction.

"I'm out."

He looked up from fixing a fridge, startled. "Excuse me?"

"I'm done. You can find somebody else to prey on, but I am done."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Really now…? First, the mansion burns, now you're turning your back on me?"

Brenda folded her arms. "Yes."

He shook his head. "I don't buy it." He stood and brushed his oily hands against his slacks as he moved to retrieve his water bottle. "You are no different a person from when I found you, beating the shit out of that mugger. You can lie to the loser your dragging along, but not to me."

She fumed. "You don't know me." Then she turned and headed for the door.

He cast a skeptical look her way and grinned. "I know you will be back. You're not the first person to think they had their shit in order."

She ignored him and kicked the door open, exiting the warehouse and leaving Tate McGucket alone with the refrigerator. Removing his shirt, and revealing the tattoos inscribed on his chest, he smirked.

She would be back. They always came back.

 **[0]**

Robbie sat beside Tambry's sleeping form, his eyes on his arm.

Gideon had disappeared off the face of the earth. There had been no rumblings regarding the demon. Dipper was back and Mabel had returned to her former self.

He had a girlfriend. She was hot.

Everything should have been fine.

Then why, was the skin of his forearm, beginning to lose color?

Tambry's eyes fluttered open. She looked so beautiful without any of her make-up. "What's the matter?"

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. Only when the embrace was broken, he responded. "I'm fine, thanks for worrying…"

She frowned but smiled mischievously. "Well, it's the last day of summer…are we going to celebrate or what?"

Robbie leaned closer as he spoke. "Does celebrating involve not leaving the bed until absolutely necessary and then gorging ourselves?"

She smirked. "You know me too well."

 **[0]**

Agent Gray watched as scientists moved about the seemingly alien technology. After a whole month of attempts, they were no closer to figuring out what the machine did, what it ran on, and from what elements it was constructed.

Lockhart approached, worried by his partner intense glare. Ever since Mabel Pines had given them the information regarding ghosts and Stanford Pines had traded The Machine for his freedom, Gray had become a bit frantic.

Lockhart shuffled his feet for a moment, before forcing himself to speak. "Um, Jake? I think you should maybe take a sabbatical…let me handle this one for a little while…"

Terrifyingly, his partner did not respond.

"…then you can be rested up and you'll be able to think straight."

Gray wheeled on him, speaking in a vicious rasp. "You think I don't know what you're trying to do? Who told you to get rid of me? Was it a message from Command? Do they think I'm not capable? Was it one of the bastards who've been pushing for this job for the past twenty years, trying to turn this into a deranged science experiment?"

Lockhart felt the bile rise in his throat. "No one told me to do this, Jake. I'm just worried about you."

For a moment, regret flooded the older man's face. It reminded Lockhart of his big brother's expression after hitting him in a fit of drunk rage.

In Gray's eyes, he could see the wife and children who had been waiting for the past four years for him to come home. Ever since The Incident, his partner had come closer and closer to the truth he had spent so many years of his life working towards. He had been on this case for longer than anyone else, he had been on it before the SBE even existed.

Lockhart had read the files and listened to the tapes. Gray had once been enthusiastic, believing they were on the verge of a breakthrough in how they viewed biology and astrophysics.

That optimism had died a little more with every year and everybody found, killed by unexplainable phenomena. That was before Command had seen the mountain of unfinished cases and taken control of the situation. Before Gray had met his wife, before Lockhart had even been conceived.

He'd been fighting for this before the Augmentation process was even released to the SBE for use.

"I…I'm fine…" Jacob White replied (Command had an ironic sense of humor when choosing aliases).

With that, the older agent turned away and Lockhart wondered if the Augmentation process was affecting them both in the same way. He glanced back towards The Machine and felt the alien pull which it emitted begin to sink into his brain cells.

He turned away, somewhere between the feeling of being close to vomiting and the feeling of discovering you were the only sane person left in the world. He gritted his teeth and followed Gray, hoping that they came to answers soon.

Otherwise, he would have more to worry about than his partner's deteriorating mental health.

 **[0]**

Bergmann's life had turned into a nightmare.

First, his boss had disappeared. Then Stan Pines had been released and Preston Norwood had consumed Gideon's followers into his own flock. He'd needed to get out, to escape before either Pines or Norwood caught up with him.

But nothing worked. No escape plan had come to fruition. Buses would not pick him up and no one would offer a ride out of town. He was trapped in this one bedroom apartment, staring at the peeling wallpaper and becoming more paranoid by the second. Everything from the buzzing of the flies to the movement of clunky feet outside his door set him off.

He switched on the TV in a bid to relax. It made him sit up straight.

Gideon stood there, eyes green, skin blackened. He stood in a mass of shifting shadow, as young as when he had first found Bergmann, training Chupacabra in Puerto Rico. His amulet was noticeably absent. The child glared into the camera, an unholy anger at Bergmann's failure to kill the amputee.

 _"Now listen here you overgrown piece of shit, I have a very important job for you, alright?"_

Bergmann nodded, unable to think otherwise.

 _"Good, you'll want to get a pen and paper…as I'm about to give you some vital coordinates."_

The nightmare had somehow gotten a whole lot worse.

 **[0]**

Bill watched as all of his pawns interacted, before switching his attention to the Nightmare realm around him.

Gideon teleported to his side, speaking solemnly. _"It is done."_

Bill glanced at him and smiled. _"Nice work, InfinitySign. Give him a round of applause!"  
_ There was a chorus of shrieks and roars in agreement, as Bill's friends peered over the edge of a red cloud and focused on Gideon's now sobbing form. Strangely, enough, this did not raise the boy's spirits.

Bill leaned in as he spoke. _"Aw c'mon, cheer up. You wanted to live forever…"_ He jerked towards his allies. _"WELCOME TO THE CLUB!"_

They laughed again. Gideon did not. Somehow, the tears never stopped rolling down his cheeks. Bill thought that effect was interesting, but mostly, he just considered it hilarious.

He turned back to his pawns and the mouth which wriggled beneath his eye bowed to resemble a smile.

Ah, well, two down…eight to go.

* * *

 ** _Message:_** ** _Gniht wols a si dlrow eht fo dne eht. Remmus eno ni dne sgniht lla ton._**

* * *

 ** _*IMPORTANT! IMPORTANT! DO NOT SKIP THIS BIT!*_**

 ** _THUS ENDETH SEASON ONE._**

 ** _SEASON TWO WILL BE OUT_ Relatively _SOON! I need to take a break for this story, however, as there are other projects I want to work on. I will continue this story, however, just be aware of the brief hiatus._**

 ** _There may be short stories during the break. There may not. Don't get your hopes up._**

 ** _Anyway, tell me what your favorite episode of Depravity Falls is in a review! :)_**

* * *

 ** _"Fun" facts:_**

 ** _1: That song which Bill was singing is a beautiful Do-Op number called "Tonight, Tonight" and should be credited to a band named "The Mellow Kings."_**

 ** _2: The Demons don't get along so well, except for Bill and his entourage. That's why Gn'aak was not enthusiastic about Bill's summoning._**

 ** _3: I am surprised no one figured out what Gideon's ultimate fate was going to be. There isn't much subtly to the name "Infinity Sign."_**

 **Comments** :

 _Guest: I haven't even read it yet but I just want to leave a review so you know this is awesome and I'm gonna keep reading till I get here or even further (I hope)._

 ** _Thank you for the encouragement!_**

 _IsmaelParica:_

 _So, Dipper's brain dead._

F*ck, you made me think of Game of Thrones with this (should've seen this coming, though).

 ** _;)_**

 _Keeper of Worlds:_

 _So, Dipper is as close to dead you can be with a pulse due in part to a demon basically dumping a brain nuke on him and the rest of everything is going to a symphony of discord and misery for Bill to twist and use as he desires...Well shit. That's not good for them at all._

Robbie really pulled through here and so did Candy. Things are only going to get deadlier at this rate. Hopefully, Wendy can return to shed things back to focus and not have everyone being flippantly toyed with by an arrogant little-depraved pervert semi-immortal and a nigh all-powerful dream demon bent on total world dominion and madness.

 ** _SnowFlake could never have been the one to take down InfinitySign._**

 _Coldblue:_

 _Thanks for updating and great chapter!_

 _This will be one of my shorter reviews for "Depravity Falls" ever so far. I think._

 _"Nightmare to Reality":_

 _Pretty good chapter. I know you can't fit in too many characters into this chapter, but it rather interesting to read about this chapter. Sort of glad how everything turned out with Bill Cipher. It rather interesting how all that all went down with transitioning reality to conscious of whoever mind. Dipper Pines is either brain dead or his conscious is not within his body, but the Nightmare Realm. Stanford Pines has been arrest by Government Agents who will try to pump Stan for any information that they need. Mable is probably very worried about her brother and glad that her friends are okay. Candy is glad everyone relatively alive so far that it is interesting to read what will happen between her and Brenda. Brenda seems to come from a poor background by mentioning that she lives in a Trailer, but there more about Brenda that I want know more about. Robbie was interesting supporting character that was interesting in this chapter and I wonder how close Robbie will get with Tambry as this story progress. The Government Agents will be the Pine Twins obstacle now. Though, is Stan keeping Dipper and Mable parents from contacting them or were the Government Agents just trying to make Stan Pines into more of a villain? It going to be interesting to read._

 _Questions_

 _1) Are Dipper Pines's mind/thoughts in the Nightmare Realm? Did Bill cause Dipper mind to glimpse into the Nightmare Realm?_

 _ **If Dipper glimpsed the Nightmare Realm he would no longer function.**_

 _3) How will Preston Norwood react to Gideon Gleeful attempt for complete Power Grab of Gravity Falls?_

 _ **Preston is very glad that Gideon has been taken care of. He was prepared to send assassin after assassin to Gideon's door otherwise.**_

 _4) Was Fiddleford McGucket arrested as well by the Government Agents or did he escape the raid?_

 _ **He was not arrested, as he proved useful to certain entities as a "free" man.**_

 _Suggestions_

 _3) Preston Norwood is the ONLY other powerful figure in Gravity Falls. There three pillars of Powers: Stanford Pines, Gideon Gleeful, and Preston Norwood. They have the major power in Gravity Falls. With Stanford Pines being apprehended by the Agency, Gideon going to grab for power. Preston Norwood should also make a grab for power that Gideon Gleeful has NOT taken. Sort of show how Stan got weaker in Gravity Falls, while Gideon and Preston gain more power. This would add more obstacles for the characters in "Depravity Falls"._

 _ **The burning of the Idonist's building was a direct attack at Norwood's supremacy.**_

 _5) This group has been severely weakened. Without the Brains or the Resources, they don't have much power. Sure they have Pacifica Norwood, but she is under Preston Norwood's control. It rather interesting to read the struggle of these characters. Mable Pines in particular with how her brother is just comatose and likely to never wake up, with whatever the doctors say or something. Candy, Brenda, and Robbie would try to comfort her as best as they can. Though, it does make me wonder where Mable staying in Gravity Falls with Stan being arrested/apprehended by Agents and Dipper is in a coma. I doubt that Candy, Brenda, and Robbie can do much, yet they could understand her struggle. Maybe Robbie more than anyone right now. Candy and Brenda can only do so much with their own issues. Robbie not close to his parents and is alone technically._

 _ **Had Mabel not taken the initiative, they would have been exceedingly screwed.**_


	15. Q&A plus Old Concepts

**_I would like to thank everyone who has Favorited this or said that it is the best or one of the best they've read. It really makes my day. I've made what I consider as some pretty crappy pieces in my earlier days. As well, I have worked on this fic, rethinking and challenging myself to make it more accessible, that I am prouder and prouder of it when it does well._**

 ** _In fact, I believe that only recently my writing style really hit "average." It is because of this I am happier and happier when this fic gains more attention than some of my older work, which I consider to be pandering and to not contain the slightest meaning._**

 ** _First, we are going to do some Q &A, and then I will lay out all the concepts I had when thinking about this series._**

* * *

 **Q &A**

 _From: Scizzorz-Is-Fluffeh_

 _Chapter 14, Jul 27._

 _Hello! I wanted to say that this story is one of the best I've read so far and that you're doing an amazing job. And, I do have one suggestion. A Wendy/Mabel pairing. Not one that's really too focused on, because as you've mentioned before, this is not a romance story. However, I have read your Mendy work and I have to say, the way you write that pairing fits perfectly within this world. The way I could see it working out is through Wendy's growing attachment to the twins. After the twins find out about the Machine and Wendy's involvement with it, maybe Mabel begins to have a small crush on her? Maybe the feelings are returned. Once again, I'm not suggesting it be focused on much, maybe just a subtle/brief mention like with Dipper's crushing or Candy and Brenda's relationship. Sorry, I just really love Mendy and have taken notice of how it could work here. XD_

 ** _Thanks for the idea. Let me put it this way; I would love to have that pairing in this story, as I think I could go to some interesting places with it. However, given how much I have considered it, I am going to go with "no." It would be cheap for me to make Wendy suddenly fall for Mabel, with hardly any pretense._**

 _From: Coldblue_

 _Chapter 14, Jul 21._

 _Man, this a long chapter and I understand the Hiatus for a bit._

 _This was a great chapter!_

 _Mable Pines:_

 _She was the STAR of this chapter! If there was ever a Mable Pines centered fan, then Chapter 14 "Festering Culmination" would be for them. Mable had to deal with a lot and solve most of her problems without Dipper. Dipper Pines has been the brains of the operation, but it seems that Mable Pines stepped up. Dealing with the Government Agents was great within and also a bit out of character for Mable Pines. It difficult to deal with the power of the Government, especially a shadowy Government Branch that can use illegal and legal means without the United States Government noticing._

 _I have to admit that Wendy becoming the Pine Twins guardian for a while was interesting and I'm glad that Stan Pines is still the Pine Twins Gruncle. Mable went even more hardcore by taking out Gideon Gleeful herself! Man, rolling up there naked and seducing him then BAM! Takes his amulet and watch's him wither and die. Bill Cipher inside Mable Pines' mind and interesting info we got from Bill Cipher._

 _Apparently, the Pine Twins are naturally drawn to the Supernatural and Mysteries, which Bill Cipher explained. That Mable and Dipper are destined for Great and Terrible things with all that happens with Gravity Falls. I really have to give you credit for Mable maturity and dealing with situations like this in this chapter. This is not twelve to thirteen-year-old Mable, but Fifteen and finally Sixteen-year-old Mable Pines. Dealing with the same, but way different issues than most kids her age. Well, I like to think Mable Pines in "Depravity Falls" is happier to stay in Gravity Falls with friends and a relative that actually cares for them. Mable and Dipper parents are missing, but we will find out what happened to them: Dead, Alive or in a coma if they must._

 ** _Mabel was brought to her limit in this episode. She was forced to do things which she never thought she would._**

 ** _Regarding her parents and her comfort with staying in Gravity Falls, it has become clear to her over the past three months, that her parents were not the greatest. Up until this summer, she had never considered her relationship with them dysfunctional but seeing how they have affected Dipper and that they have been keeping secrets from her, makes her guiltily-happy that they are out of the picture._**

 _Stan Pines:_

 _Gritty and tough Stan Pines! He did great being held captive by Government Agents, who have been enhanced to be possible Super Soldiers if the near the end of this chapter told us anything. Stan did not get a break from Government Agents. Stan did show that he is a caring man by taking care of Fiddleford McGucket that even McGucket himself thanks him. That was nice but makes me wonder who Stan's brother really was and how he acted._

 _It seems that Stan was granted another chance by the Pine Twins to be their Gruncle and to live in the Mystery Shack. Now that it was interesting to read was Stan and Wendy have not fixed their relationship. I sort of love that Wendy is not that forgiving towards Stan Pines for using her by promising to bring back her dead Mother, but maybe there is a reason for his choice. Who knows? Maybe Stan did this to give Wendy a reason to live, even if it was twisted. We got more mysteries on our hands it seems._

 _Stan meant the kids when they were five Years old and the teen Pine Twins are connected to demons even though Bill was exorcised from their minds/bodies. Though, it seems that the Machine was used by Stan Pines to bring in cult followers and battle them in Gravity Falls. In a way of saving his family, Stan Pines became a powerful man in Gravity Falls that sort of made him into an Anti-Hero warrior of some kind. I do hope Stan gets in contact with Dipper and Mable parents. Maybe a group of cultists has them or maybe their Parents wanted a new life that was normal and could not live that way with Dipper, Mable, and Stan Pines connected to them. We will have to wait and read._

 ** _Stan has a lot to make up for to Wendy for manipulating her, but he has a lot to make up for to a lot of people if he wants to be someone worthy of the twin's trust (although he already isn't, what with omitting the details of the Machine and his plan, Wendy and McGucket's involvement in his conspiracy, yadda, yadda)._**

 _Gideon Gleeful:_

 _Interesting. Basically, Gideon is a servant Bill Cipher or some form of lesser Demon now dealing with the harsh rejection that Mable Pines gave him while working for Bill Cipher who is a greater Demon. It rather interesting with the Damage and Power Shift that Gideon did. He did attack the Norwood or Preston Norwood buildings and gathered people, but now Gideon is not a mortal. The power has shifted again, but Gideon has some followers that he can rely on or Bill Cipher can use. It rather interesting to read Gideon Gleeful next perspective after dealing with this. Bill Cipher setting up Gideon to become his servant no matter what and the additional information of what Bill Cipher wants with the Pine Twins. It rather interesting._

 _Gideon Gleeful does not deserve anything else but the this. Though, it would be rather interesting to read Gideon Gleeful attempt at redemption or forgiveness with Mable given Gideon obsession with her. It seems that through Gideon that we find out the Preston Norwood has some Supernatural ability. Gideon was a Wizard/Magic-user, so what is Preston Norwood and how is Norwood family so powerful because of Gravity Falls and supernatural beings._

 ** _Gideon isn't so much a lesser demon, as a human cannot become a demon (just like an ant can't become a star no matter what magic is involved). Instead, he is a very powerful ghost, given access to the dimensional channels._**

 _Government Agents Gray and Lockhart:_

 _I have to admit it interesting to read these characters more. Agent Gray is obsessed with Gravity Falls and it relates back to his family. It seems to me that Agent Gray has a hollow dream of them. He wants to see his family again, but I don't believe that his family is alive or wants him anymore._

 _Agent Lockhart has past abuse with his family and seems to care for his partner's health. Agent Lockhart probably does not have a lot of relatives or people to care about. Really, it must be interesting to explore whatever Augmentation Gray and Lockhart had to go through and what changes it made to their bodies. Maybe they are not human anymore? Maybe they can't go back to a normal life and working this Job in this branch of the Government only ends when you die? Chilling._

 ** _Let's put it this way; If you were in charge of containing a supernatural, cosmic size anomaly, would you consider the people who have spent half their lives studying that anomaly to be contaminated? If you allowed them to just quit, wouldn't they pose a security risk?_**

 _Wendy Corduroy:_

 _It seems she is as badass as I remember. Bashing a cult member with her ax was awesome and epic. It rather interesting that Wendy is reconnecting with family and even has somewhat regular friendship with Robbie Valentine again. I must wonder how everything will turn out for Wendy now that the Pine Twins are staying in Gravity Falls longer and that they still live with Stan Pines. Something great and awkward. Wendy will never trust Stan. Though, I hope Stan does gain some respect from Wendy and probably tries to reason out why he tricked Wendy into believing that the Machine could bring back her dead mother._

 ** _Wendy has a lot of information regarding Stan_** **and _McGucket from her travels. This information is going to change the way she views both of them, as well as her interactions with them._**

 _Fiddleford McGucket:_

 _Seems to be doing okay. Not a billionaire like in "Gravity Falls", but more cut and clean. Even McGucket's memory is back and seems to be acting more normal. McGucket even has a job that is probably connected with Candy parents and is probably still a scientist. Sadly, Tate McGucket has his own agenda and has his Cult/minor Power in Gravity Falls that he wants to do something drastic. McGucket still friends with Stan Pines and even knows Stan not really Stan, but the other brother. Stan actually watched out for McGucket and that's sort of a sweet friendship._

 ** _McGucket is probably the best out of all the characters at the moment. At least, in terms of his life getting better._**

 ** _He filled a hole in Stan's life which has existed for a long time. Wendy assisted Stan because she thought he would make her life better. McGucket assisted because he wanted Stan to be happy and have what he never would again. That's why he got all logical and ticked off when his fellow conspirators grew attached to what were tools of the operation (the twins)._**

 ** _It felt unfair to McGucket for Stan to get two children to treat like family and as well for his plan to come to fruition._**

 _Pacifica Norwood:_

 _Still, friends with the Pine Twins and actually seems to be caring for them more. For some reason, I got a hint that maybe Pacifica actually loves Mable more than a friend, but I probably have to re-read that. Then again, it could have been Pacifica accidently deal with Gideon Gleeful in her Manson and his pictures. Anyway, Pacifica is growing better as a person. Not too fast or slow. At least the Pine Twins will be in Gravity Falls longer than the Summer and actually help Pacifica more. Again, Preston Norwood has some weird Supernatural powers, so that might be harder than we think._

 ** _Preston's power is not the reason that Pacifica needs help escaping._**

 _Brenda:_

 _It seems that Brenda was working with Tate McGucket, but no longer. That'll be some drama later. Though, it seems that Brenda and Candy have become a thing! Yes! I'm glad there some happiness there. It going to be interesting read Brenda and Candy High School experience in Gravity Falls. Mountain towns have small student population and a population in general really._

 ** _I wasn't intending for Brenda to go to school, but maybe I'll reconsider._**

 ** _Oh, and I can assure that her connection with Tate is going to cause all kinds of hell later._**

 _Dipper Pines:_

 _Waking up after being in a coma for about more than a couple weeks or possibly a month. Dipper missed his birthday and has actually started to grow a stubble. Dipper was a minor character in this chapter and the star was Mable. Mable made a deal with Bill Cipher so that going to come up in the future. Stan, even though he not trusted, Dipper okay with him and Mable staying with Stan. Dipper Pines is going to have High School experience with Mable Pines at Gravity Falls! It going to be EPIC! Who knows what cultists or recruiting cultists or groups in power that are connected something Supernatural or Powerful group in Gravity Falls. More mysteries and finding out more about how the Town works through the Younger generation such as High School._

 ** _Dipper was in the coma for a month. And the Gravity Falls high school is sure to be an adjustment, back in Piedmont he was the weird kid everyone tries to ignore, in Gravity Falls everyone knows that he's been involved in some dangerous and impressive stuff._**

 _Robbie Valentine:_

 _Seems to be looking good for him. Moving on with his life has a hot girlfriend with Tambry, friends with Wendy, and seems to be comfortable. Though, Robbie can't shake the feeling that something coming. Maybe Robbie is going to have an important role or do something dramatic. I don't know._

 ** _Robbie will have a very important role in Season 2. Remember, he's still determined to get rid of Bill._**

 _Favorite Chapter of "Depravity Falls":_

 _I have favorite characters, so this might explain my choice. I guess "Trick or Treat" Part 1-2. Why, well we get a lot of character grow. Dipper Pines is my favorite character and really shows a sense of importance with his realistic attitude of the world, planning and knowledge. Just like Mable Pines did in "Festering Culmination" really becomes more than just the positive, energetic and physical powerful of the Pine Twins. Robbie Valentine was interesting to read that set a course for this character that I did not expect that started in "Trick or Treat" Part 1-2. Not to mention Wendy Corduroy actually having more character depth with her family issues, how close she is with the Pine Twins, and dealing with a sense of resolve. Candy was really a big improvement in this chapter because I did not expect how much she would improve from a background character to something else. Candy so human, realistic and actually has an action that makes me so glad you did this story. Brenda made her appearance in this chapter, which took me a while to realize this. I do love how Pacifica Norwood should her weaker moments, but also improve on her as a human being. Personally, I like fanfictions when they improve on the characters._

 ** _I figured those episodes might be chosen. They were very epic. My personal favorite is probably the first one._**

 _Here are my Questions/Suggestions._

 _I can't wait to read the next chapter, but you can take as long as you want. Weeks, Months or whatever. Please just give us a head up when your next chapter coming. Such as Notice or something. I will check "Gravity Falls" Fan Fiction as best as I can._

 ** _There will be a note posted on this story when the time comes, there will be one on my account page and one in the description. Thanks for reminding me to have one._**

 _Questions_

 _1) What will Gravity Falls High School be like for Mable and Dipper Pines? Will it be what they are used to or different?_

 ** _It will be different, but not that different. Of course, the twins have changed more than their schools will._**

 _2) What supernatural power/knowledge does Preston Norwood have?_

 ** _He has enough knowledge to, as noted, distinguish different mystical beings. I don't want to spill why he has supernatural power, but I will tell you that it is an ancient kind of power, one which humans have had since the dawn of time._**

 _3) When Dipper Pines deals with the Time Slip again, will someone else be with him to witness the idea of temporary traveling through Time?_

 ** _Yes._**

 _4) Will the Pine Twins and their group get some weapons or maybe Supernatural and High Tech weapons?_

 ** _Well, this is not an adventure story. In order to keep with the theme of horror, we need to keep some mystery regarding the paranormal. If everyone just gets laser pistols and mystical flaming axes it removes both the mystery and the threat towards the heroes._**

 _5) Is there a chance of a Dipper/Wendy pairing in "Depravity Falls"? Do you have plans for Pairings for the Epilogue to conclude what happens to some characters in "Depravity Falls"?_

 ** _I've considered it, but I think probably not. Dipper has come to consider Wendy his friend and overall, it is kind of unrealistic for them to be in a relationship. Especially since Wendy only ever teased him and never showed more than big sister affection. For her to suddenly change how she feels about him is unlikely. But I will consider it._**

 _Suggestions_

 _1) Sort of a mixture of both. It not like Gravity Falls will have the dream school for Dipper and Mable. There are cultists, insane groups, and many forms of dangers in Gravity Falls. Cultist kids are probably recruited and made into fanatic followers, wealthy students are apart Preston or Pacifica group, and let not forget the Society of the Blind run by Tate McGucket with Brenda as a former member. There lot of dangers._

 _Still, Dipper and Mable will have a strange group. Candy and Brenda will be a part of their group with the threat of Brenda being reported or blackmailed by Tate McGucket. Pacifica Norwood would be sort of part of the group and probably protect them from the wealthy/popular teens, but Pacifica has to deal with her father agenda and can't keep everyone in check. Dipper and Mable actually have some friends in this High School, so they are not social outcasts as much as they usually are._

 ** _You are correct that Pacifica would be unable to shield them always from spite. However, Dipper would certainly be braver and more protective of his sister. Mabel...well...let's just hope nobody picks on her while she's alone._**

 _2) Again, probably both. It seems that Preston Norwood interest in the Norwood Bloodline and Pacifica being his heir. Maybe the Norwood family was given special magical ability by demon such as Bill Cipher, because in "Gravity Falls" the Northwest had a tapestry of Bill Cipher. That just adds more interesting dimensions to Bill Cipher and his power over Gravity Falls. Knowledge can be bought, so I doubt the Norwood or Preston does not have almost all the knowledge they could get their hands on. It just some reason they need Dipper and Mable Pines. Possible to go with Bill Cipher desire or strange connection with them._

 ** _Preston's personal collection of books has enough answers in it to make Dipper (and the S.B.E.) drool. And remember, Preston still needs the twins before he disregards them and cleans his daughter of the ideas they corrupted her with._**

 _3) I hope that when this Time Slip happens again, Dipper Pines has someone with him. Most likely Mable, but let look at other possibilities. I could read Wendy, Fiddleford McGucket, or even Pacifica from out nowhere. Robbie, Brenda, and Candy don't seem like likely candidates, but I could be wrong. Having more Wendy Corduroy in this story would be great and actually dealing with Time Travel with Dipper would be interesting. Fiddleford McGucket probably deserves a Time Slip adventure after what happened to him and also to realize why certain events happen with knowing Dipper had actually lived part of the experience. Pacifica Norwood is an idea if you want to have her get closer to the Pine Twins or from Preston perspective to at least gain Dipper trust more to solve Norwood Family problem. These are just ideas, so go with whatever you think._

 ** _Fiddleford definitely deserves some explanation, although Dipper would be hesitant to send anyone through the agony of watching time pass._**

 _4) I feel that they need some decent weapons. I mean, sure they have good traits and abilities, but you could never go wrong with a weapon. Get the Pine Twins and friends some more weapons like guns, bronze knuckles or even some laser rifles. It would be great if you add more Medieval Weapons with some Supernatural enchantment of some kind that they find to fight Supernatural beings. Personally, I hope the Pine Twins find some Alien weapons and figure out how to fire some Laser Rifles or move some Giant Robot security thing. Sort of would relate back to Gruncle Stanford Pines and McGucket signature weapons from "Gravity Falls" series: Laser Rifles and Giant Robots. Something to be the Groups ace in the whole when the battles get more intense._

 ** _There will certainly be more intense battles and the gang will be using more powerful artifacts to battle them._**

 _5) That would not actually be bad. It would be interesting given how Wendy dislikes/hates Stan Pines, but Mable and Dipper actually helped her with her problems of leaving Stan Pines and reconnecting with her family. It would be interesting to read Dipper and Wendy actually becoming a couple in the Epilogue. Nothing fancy and probably just be summarized at the end of the story. I know I mention I'm a Dipper/Pacifica fan or a fan of the pairing, but I'd keep open to the idea. I just like the writers actually explain and write how that pairing would happen. "Depravity Falls" is no love story. It a Sci-Fi/Horror fantasy mixed with Drama, Angst, Slice of Life, and Action. I have to admit you could write pairings with this story. There are Dipper and Wendy moments, but also Dipper and Pacifica moments._

 _In "Depravity Falls", you have two pairings: Robbie/Tambry and Candy/Brenda. Not bad and it would be interesting to read how far their relationship goes in the Epilogue. It would be interesting to read what happens to Dipper, Mable, Wendy, and Pacifica. Personally, I feel that Mable will be single or be dating someone not worth noting such as Background/Extra character, but have the kid(s) and still search for Love even as an adult/single parent. Mable Pines is just that strong emotional and has friends and her brother to back her up to keep doing that. I just think Dipper Pines best chances at pairings with Wendy Corduroy and Pacifica Norwood. Why? Strangely enough in certain chapters of "Depravity Falls" they sort of know each other very well. Sort of show their weakest moments: Wendy family issues, Pacifica family issues and living up to some status of being wealthy, and Dipper dealing trust issues on mostly anyone he does not know and his own family issues. I don't know how it would go. Dipper could date Wendy or Pacifica and end up dating whoever at the end. Marriage? Possible. Having a Kid? Highly likely, but still a lot of issues with that with Dipper interested in Supernatural/Dangers. At least Wendy and Pacifica are connected to that too in many ways that "Depravity Falls" points out._

 ** _I can tell you for certain that there will not be romance between Pacifica and Dipper and most likely none between Wendy and Dipper._**

 _From: Farimir_

 _Chapter 14, Jul 18._

 _This is one of the best fics I have ever read. I'm interested regarding your thoughts on the tone of the Disney Show. I am glad that that show has that light tone, but I wish it had taken a slightly darker tone. Not this level, this level is what fanfiction is for, but rated PG13, not PG. The more morbid Bill moments like the Preston Northwest face in the show were his best moments, and they missed some opportunities because of the rating. I am curious if you agree with me, or wish it had a lighter/darker theme._

 ** _I've already answered this one on a personal message but to give a broader answer, I wish that the show was darker. The show was best when it pushed the limits of the formula and medium._**

 _From: The Keeper of Worlds_

 _Chapter 14, Jul 19._

 _Well, it goes without saying that Gideon trapped as a demon's eternal slave is never dying indeed. Mabel, well, she's been out through the ringer this chapter and it now shows just how intense season two will get here. Ford is dead, and Bill said 'eight to go.'_

 _I wonder who all is on this wheel, why is Robbie suddenly going monochrome starting with an arm, and what type of odds they have to fight a racing covert government fanatic and a nigh-omnipowerful demon._

 ** _Season Two will indeed be far more intense._**

 _From: Guest_

 _Chapter 14, Jul 20._

 _Bravo, just wonderful best fiction I've read in a really long time._

 ** _Thank you so much!_**

* * *

 **Old Concepts**

 ** _So yeah, a bunch of these were dumb and were created when I first intended the series to be little more than me writing about the worst possible stuff I could pull off._**

 _Characters_

 _Wendy:_ While thinking up episodes a year ago, I tried to figure out how to use the Gremgoblin, since I really enjoyed the idea of a monster which can drive you mad with fear. I decided that Wendy and her friends (Lee, Thompson, Nate, and Tambry, not Robbie) would be involved in a cult, in which they sacrificed people to the Gremgoblin and received a feeling of incredible bliss in return. Wendy would break the twins out before the Gremgoblin could succeed and redeem herself in a later episode.

At some point, I scrapped the idea of the cult, but kept the idea of the nightmare keeper and added it to the Trickster.

 _Mabel:_ For a while, I was considering having a plot line in which Mabel begins to become attracted to Dipper, starting with when he brings her to her room when she becomes drunk.

Then they would have a secret relationship in the first season, which ended in the aftermentioned "Gremgoblin" episode, in which Mabel's nightmare is to be separated from Dipper and following the episode, she breaks up with him.

In "Sock Opera", Bill was going to be so pleasure-obsessed that he used Dipper's body to have sex with Mabel, reigniting their secret relationship.

I am glad I was wise enough to throw this idea in the trash and burn that trash with a flamethrower.

 _Robbie_ : In the two years I muddled over my ideas regarding, and in my first iteration of the planning phase, I had the idea of Robbie being abusive towards Wendy. In the Depravity Fall's version of "Boyz will be Boyz" (which also involved Stan helping Mabel scare off the stalker Gideon hired), Dipper was going to discover this and either beat Robbie within the inch of his life or accidently killed him via asphyxiation.

I decided at some point that Dipper should not become that violent. Also, that Dipper and Wendy's relationship would not go any really interesting places from there. Then I decided to give Robbie his own Arc and make him a redeemable character.

 _Pacifica_ : Originally, Pacifica was intended to be little more than a bully. She was to psychologically abuse Mabel (because doing so turned her on), to the point of near madness. After a week of being blackmailed into being Pacifica's slave (by photos of her and Dipper together), Mabel was going to be so spent that at one point she blacked out and killed Pacifica in a fit of rage.

This is another instance as to where I decided that if I wanted to get to the second season, I would have to hold off on the twins being pushed to the edge or else there would be no reason for the audience to keep reading. And that if the twins ever went that far before the final episodes, there would be few places to escalate to.

 _Soos_ : When I first thought of the series, it was my intention that Soos would be developmentally challenged and would basically be the heart of the operation. Later, I decided that it was better to just have McGucket fill his role, as McGucket has a much darker and more tragic story.

 _Bill_ : I went through a number of ideas as to how I could make the Depravity Fall's version of Bill scarier than he was in my other fics where he featured as lead villain ("Reversed Situations" and "Chaotic Situations"). I considered having him speak like a 1930's gangster and I considered having him act completely innocent, like a child, even as he mutilates and murders.

What I decided on was that he would use a lot of archaic words and unusual language, as of the fact that he has studied humans in a way the other demons have not. Then I decided, he would lapse into speaking like an average joe when he wanted to be more direct. I also decided that Bill would have an even shriller voice, to make him less human and make him further part of the bizarrely-frightening club.

 _Episodes_

 _Clones_ : Following "The Destroyer", I tried to create a story revolving around McGucket assisting Dipper in cloning himself so that he could handle multiple problems at once. The result was five clones, each defined by a single trait of Dipper's personality (Loyalty, Lust, Ambition, Aggression, and Acedia). Loyalty was going to help round-up the other clones (and protect Mabel from Lust). Lust was going to hit on Wendy. Ambition was going to nearly summon a Cthulu-esque monstrosity in hopes of receiving power. Aggression was going to attack Robbie (with an ax). And Acedia was going to be absolutely useless and do nothing for the entire episode…until all the other clones had been destroyed, in which case Dipper was going to see that he was up in the rafters of the Shack, about to gun down everyone at the party with one of Stan's semi-automatics. Dipper then managed to talk the clone out of it and Acedia would probably say something before being destroyed.

I never got to how they were going to be destroyed, or what lesson this was going to teach Dipper. I had a reason for him to climb into a terrible machine and get stuck with needles, but I ultimately decided the entire episode should be scrapped.

 _Dipper vs Manliness:_ After "The Destroyer" was still uncertain of the direction I wanted the show in. On scrapping the Clones episode, I considered Dipper mending his pride (from being tricked by Gideon and being unable to protect Mabel) by seeking out a being devoted to teaching people how to be better warriors. It was going to be a big, body-horror-realistic minotaur who sets Dipper through three near impossible tasks. The final was to kill the minotaur himself. Dipper was going to become a

 _Gremgoblin episode:_ see _Wendy._

 _Time travel episode:_

This is how the idea evolved:

1.0 – Dipper gets sent to a time in which incomprehensible being's rule the universe (this idea was basically a rip-off of a Lovecraft short story, which is why I said what I did regarding the subject in the review section of Episode 4: Discoveries).

2.0 – A time traveler interrupt's Dipper and Mabel's day at the fair, to kill them and prevent their effect's on The Future.

2.1 – Dipper is at the county fair with his sister, when he decides to reveal his feelings to her. But a version of him from the future stops him, insisting that doing so will lead to terrible events (I had nowhere to go from that, so I jumped back to 1.0 and reworked it to be longer).

3.0 – Dipper gets sent to the future, and discovers that Mabel went insane without him and committed a murder-suicide inside of The Shack (which is an abandoned house) by killing Stan and then herself. He meet's a man who promises to send him back to his own time in exchange for "a favor." The man is possessed by Bill and the favor is to give him a mark in Timeline B (Dipper doesn't disappear).

3.1 – Dipper is sent to the future, and Brandon confronts him immediately. Brandon is possessed by Bill and promises to help Dipper. Dipper runs and finds out that Gravity Falls is a ghost town. He has an aneurysm and collapses in front of some kids who came into town to chuck rocks and explore. They report him to the Sherriff of the nearest town, Wendy's littlest brother, Eddie. Dipper is taken to a hospital where he recovers and Eddie forces him to put on an earpiece which everyone must wear, as it tracks your location and gives you useful information. Dipper uses the ear-piece to discover that Mabel went insane without him and committed a murder-suicide inside of The Shack (which is an abandoned house) by killing Stan and then herself. Eddie takes him to the Oregon State Mental Hospital, where Mabel is being kept. She doesn't believe that he exists, calling him just another hallucination. Dipper runs from Eddie, hoping to get to the Shack and use the Journal. He discovers the building burnt to a crisp and Brandon(Bill) appears to offer a deal.

3.2 – Published version of events: I decided that instead of a dystopia, I would subject Dipper to a post-apocalyptic scenario, a there would be too much exposition in explaining the dystopia and the earpieces, while an apocalypse gave ample reason to include McGucket and his oh so important daughter. I also decided to give Brandon his own motivation, as I figured it would be cheating to have Bill's dialogue before the character is actually introduced. While I miss the chance to show off how character's had changed in thirty years, I thought it best to let your imaginations connect the dot as to the plague and the battle. I'm very happy with the final product.

* * *

 ** _The first short will come out on the eleventh._**


	16. Short: New Guy

**New Guy**

* * *

 _Fwd: Transcripts regarding A.B. and AD.V._

 ** _Doctor Reinhardt_**

 _To me_

 _\- Forwarded message -_

 _From: "Command" N/A_

 _Date: Aug 3, 2010, 2:43 AM_

 _Subject: Updating Transcripts_

 _These must be edited to contain no mention of A.B. and AD.V., conversations must still flow well._

 _Delete this email after performing this task, and then bring your computer to the shop. Then report to the P Dr. Reinhardt's office for Psychological Evaluation._

* * *

 _TRANSCRIPT FROM AGENT INTEGRATION PROCESS_

 _Command: State your name, previous professions, and then explain why you volunteered for the S.B.E. project._

 _A.L.: My name is Mark Re-_

 _Command: The name supplied by the file supplied._

 _A.L.: *Sigh* My name is Agent Lockhart. I worked in the Marines a number of years. Then I sustained an injury to the leg. Because of that one of my best mates was…killed. After a year of physical and mental recovery, I worked my way up through a police academy. Half a decade later I was recruited to the FBI. I solved a couple old cases which others had deemed umm, unsolvable. And what do you know, I was brought to Oregon for this special division training. I felt like I had seen it all, and I wanted umm, I wanted direction in my life. I'd become jaded, I wanted to do something greater. So my boss recommended this place._

 _Command: And how long did you spend in briefing and training?_

 _A.L.: I don't remember. Fourteen months?_

 _Command: Can you repeat your grades?_

 _A.L.: I received one hundred of one hundred on the interrogation of psychologically volatile individuals. I received one hundred of one hundred on mental stability while subjected to bizarre and frightening situations. I received one hundred of one hundred in gymnastic exercises. I received one hundred of one hundred on detective work, and I received ninety of one hundred on emotional stability._

 _Command: Give vocal consent._

 _A.L.: I am prepared to be subject to the Augmentation process should Command require it of me. As well, I am prepared for repeated psychological evaluation should it be deemed necessary._

 _Command: Repeat the creed of our division._

 _A.L.: I am here to save citizens from the monstrosities released in the Event and to discover the reason behind the unreasonable._

 _Command: You will report to A.G. and A.B. in the Investigation Division at 0800 hours._

 _TRANSCRIPT FROM CONVERSATION BETWEEN A.L., A.G., & A.B._ _:_

 _A.L.: Hello, I was uh, told to report-_

 _A.B.: Sit down._

 _A.L.: Oh uh, sure._

 _A.B.: So, what did they brief you about?_

 _A.L.: I was informed about the disappearances, the abnormalities regarding objects, fauna, and flora, and I was told that people who are psychic have become nauseated or even mentally crippled while in the vicinity of the Anomaly._

 _A.G.: They keep telling less and less, don't they?_

 _A.B.: How are we supposed to work when they keep handing us this obfuscating bullshit?_

 _A.L.: What-what didn't they tell me?_

 _A.B.: Does it even matter? You are not the first person they sent to this failure of a department unprepared. Do you want the hours of transcripts from surveilling our conversations? Do you want the hundreds of files? You don't have clearance for anything below Level 2 so you are not going to get a hands on approach._

 _A.G.: Lighten up Abner, he's just a kid. I'm sorry, my partner-_

 _A.B.: *Grunt.*_

 _A.G.: -and I have been trying to understand the Anomaly for decades and well, I'm happy for any help but we've both become a little tired of the people who Command hands us._

 _A.L.: What-what happened to the other agents in this department?_

 _A.B.: They cracked._

 _A.G.: Heh, heh. Well, what code name did they give you? They change ours every three years…for some reason. It is another bureaucratic thing._

 _A.L.: Ah, I'm 'Agent Lockhart."_

 _A.G.: HA! I'm 'Gray' and this is 'Black.' I was pretty sure that they were going to give you 'White.'_

 _A.B.: My name's Abner, this idiot here is Jacob. Sorry for being a dick._

 _A.L.: No need to apologize sir._

 _A.B.: Hey, no 'sir' out of you. I'm almost as clueless about the Anomaly as you are._

 _A.L.: Maybe but I…I clearly have a lot to learn._

 _A.B.: Heh, well, let's fix that._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING O.M.M._

 _A.B.: The majority of our information comes from these files._

 _A.L.: Wait, really? These are all by the same person._

 _A.B.: Yes, O.M.M., he was working for S.B.E. before me or Jacob. And probably before it was named what it is._

 _A.L.: What do those initials stand for?_

 _A.B.: Command won't say. But it doesn't matter, these are the most information we have on the anomaly. Oh, and be careful. The last agent looked too deep too soon and couldn't take some of the later files._

 _A.L.: What do you mean?_

 _A.B.: Let's just say that O.M.M. became rather unhinged as his research progressed. The last file is meaningless scribbles. Report to the cafeteria at 1100 hours._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING INSECT BEHAVIOR WITH ASSISTANT DIRECTOR OF SCIENTIFIC DEPARTMENT_

 _A.L.: Excuse me, are you the assistant director of the scientific department?_

 _AD.V.: Yes, I am. You are the new agent, aren't you?_

 _A.L.: *Nods* I was wondering if you could tell me what this meant…right here at the beginning of this paragraph._

 _AD.V.: Ah. "Experiencing either Pareidolia to an unstable degree or giving witness to bilocation." That's the one?_

 _A.L.: Yes. I'm sorry for bothering you during your lunch-_

 _AD.V.: No, that's perfectly fine young man. See, Pareidolia is the experience of seeing patterns where logically there are none. Like oh, that face on mars, that was human beings projecting their subconscious onto rocks and shadows._

 _A.L.: Alright…and the other word._

 _AD.V.: Bilocation means the belief that something can be in multiple places at once. It's commonly associated with Fortean Phenomena. I'd recommend ignoring that bit._

 _A.L.: Why?_

 _AD.V.: Well, because it goes against all laws of physics. Unless we are prepared to claim that the laws of physics have broken down inside the anomaly, I would recommend at looking into the Pareidolia if you want something to investigate. We already know that the Anomaly is a breeding ground for mental disorders, that's why the people we have in our holding cells are always so co-operative. If anything, half of what is reported may be false or misleading._

 _A.L.: I don't want to be disrespectful, but what do you mean?_

 _AD.V.: You know…every year someone thinks that the secret to all this lies in the weather patterns throughout summer or that the arrangement of trees in certain spots designates the movement of otherworldly energy. *Lowers his voice* It's all a bunch of bullshit. From how native species of ants differ from regional to the level of acidity in the lake. All of it. That's why we still don't know anything. We're all looking at rocks and shadows._

 _A.L.: What else should we be doing._

 _AD.V.: Concentrating on who put it in our heads in the first place that there might be some life on Mars._

 _TRANSCRIPT FROM CAFETERIA_

 _A.G.: Were you just talking with Vincent?_

 _A.L.: Was I…not supposed to share information with him?_

 _A.B.: No, it's not that. He's read all the files a hundred times. And I mean that literally._

 _A.G.: No, the problem is that he…well, he is a little eccentric. Some of his theories border on ridiculous._

 _A.L.: What do you mean?_

 _A.B.: Well…he used to be the actual director. But a couple years ago he claimed to have discovered something about the anomaly which was game changing._

 _A.L.: And?_

 _A.G.: It turned out to be a smudge on his microscope._

 _A.B.: He had too much sway in Command to be fired, so they made him assistant director. It's an essentially meaningless position, given that he's always outvoted. So he spends most of his time in that little office they squeezed him away in. Heh, ever since then, he's been convinced that every conversation we have in this building is being monitored and recorded. He thinks that Command won't let him quit because he knows too much. All his ideas are like that. He thinks that everyone is a puppet of something._

 _A.L.: You don't ever get the feeling that you're playing into somebody else's hands? I mean, not to that paranoid extent. But…some of the stuff I've been reading about in the files, it felt like there was something big behind it all. Some common factor._

 _A.B.: I make my decisions and then I live with them, there's no point in blaming others._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING PSYCHOLOGICAL CHECKUP_

 _Dr. Reinhardt: So, what do you think of your new department and your fellow employees now that you're settled in._

 _A.L.: I find that Agent Black is a very strong leader for the department. Agent Gray is very accommodating of my inexperience, he spent half of his day explaining to me about what he and Black have discovered over the years._

 _Dr. Reinhardt: I saw that you were chatting with Vincent during the cafeteria break. What do you make of him?_

 _A.L.: He's strange but he…he seems lost and a little desperate. I don't know…he…_

 _Dr. Reinhardt: This is a safe place, Mark. You can share anything you want in here with total confidence that it will not leave my notes._

 _A.L.: He reminds me of my mother. She was always scraping to keep her job, to get some respect. I feel like he's fallen off the radar and maybe he's been at this too long…but something about what he said keeps rattling around in my head._

 _Dr. Reinhardt: And what is that?_

 _A.L.: That somethi-I mean, someone has been diverting the agency's attention away from the truth regarding The Anomaly._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING SLEEPING HABITS_

 _A.B.: Hey, kid. You can't stay awake all night reading._

 _A.L.: I know but I just want to finish…this one file. I'm halfway through._

 _A.B.: You've been working yourself ragged all week. C'mon, Jake's gonna miss his bunkmate._

 _A.L.: Fuh-fuh-fine._

 _A.B.: Aw, jeez kid. You could stand to lose a few pounds._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING AUGMENTATION_

 _A.L.: What is the "Augmentation" room?_

 _A.G.: Oh, don't worry yourself over that. It is only used if something drastic happens to or inside The Anomaly, something dangerous enough that we need to take action._

 _A.L.: What…what happens in there? Vincent said that it changed the way you thought._

 _A.G.: You've been talking with him more, have you?_

 _A.L.: Well, he's been helping me to understand some of the words in the files and their concepts. How are we supposed to figure this thing out anyway, if we aren't working with a full staff?_

 _A.G.: Listen, all you do is take a couple pills which are supposed to be really healthy for your brain. They don't insert anything into your body or your head if that's what you were wondering._

 _A.L.: You've taken it then?_

 _A.G.: No, but Abner has._

 _A.B.: Hey, you two! Are you ready to tour Level 2?_

 _A.G.: Yeah, we're coming._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING TOUR OF LEVEL 2_

 _A.B.: While you were doing your research, did you happen to come upon anything regarding the Mystery Shack?_

 _A.L.: The what now?_

 _A.G.: It's a tourist trap on the edge of town, right off the highway. A lot of shady stuff has happened around that location._

 _A.B.: And its owner. Don't forget him. The guy is either super smart or insane._

 _A.L.: Shouldn't we be focusing on objects and samples? People are easily affected by The Anomaly._

 _A.B.: Old lockets and weird looking plants can only get you so far, kid. People, people can spill the beans. No matter how long you look at some abnormal pond scum, it's not going to confess shit._

 _A.L.: I suppose that makes sense…but why haven't you brought him in for questioning?_

 _A.G.: We need to be strategic about when we show our faces._

 _A.B.: I'm telling you, though, that when the time finally comes, there's going to be no greater feeling than knowing I untangled this mess. All the years, they're going to finally be worth something._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING A.B.'s PLAN_

 _AD.V.: Hello, Mark._

 _A.L.: You startled me._

 _AD.V.: You shouldn't get so enwrapped in your work. Those files are as useful as the termites in the walls…_

 _A.L.: What is it that you want?_

 _AD.V.: Ah, did the clique come down on you for associating yourself with me? You need to learn not to do everything your big brothers tell you._

 _A.L.: What?!_

 _AD.V.: There's no need to get testy. I just wanted to show you something in my office…I've been working on it for a while and I…I think you'll like it._

 _A.L.: Well, no thank you. Abner has me and Jake working to compile everything we have regarding a man named Stanford Pines. He has this hunch he might be connected to some of the inconsistencies in our information._

 _AD.V.: Really? That won't do at all…not one bit…_

 _A.L.: What? What did you say?_

 _AD.V.: Have a nice day Mark._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING LATENESS:_

 _A.G.: Abner should have been here by now…he set the time for this meeting…maybe he decided to pick up some more info. Sometimes files get sent to the wrong departments...things back up…_

 _A.L.: Has he uh, been late before?_

 _A.G.: Oh np. He's always on time…_

 _A.L.: Shit! I-I need to check something…_

 _A.G.: Huh? What's the matter?_

 _A.L.: I think…I need to check that lab…_

 _A.G.: Hold up, what is it that you know that I don't? What's going on?_

 _A.L.: I just need to…I'm afraid that Vincent might have brought him in there and yesterday he was saying something about how he couldn't let Abner question Stanford Pines._

 _A.G.: Alright, calm down. Vince is a little weird but he isn't going to attack Abner and even if he did, he'd fail miserably. But you're right, he's probably speaking with him in the lab. C'mon, there's no sense in waiting here any longer, the meeting time has already passed._

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING (REDACTED):_

 _A.G.: Vincent! Get the fuck off him!_

 _A.L.: What are you doing, are you trying to kill him?_

 _AD.V.: Tha-that's the plan! Hehehe…_

 _A.G.: He's still alive. Mark, go call security. My god…you really have gone off the deep end…what the fuck did you do to your office?_

 _AD.V.: You like it? It's my tribute to Him._

 _A.G.: What? Who?_

 _AD.V.: Haha! You're hurting my arm Grayson. There's no need for physical violence...you of all folks should know that._

 _A.G.: SHUT UP! Who are you talking about? Who told you to do this?_

 _AD.V.: And who else, but the almighty eye? If you stare long enough at anything it begins to stare back…and we've been staring for_ far _too long…_

 _A.G.: Why is his heart rate going down? What did you do?!_

 _AD.V.: Nothing which wouldn't happen in a couple years. If it isn't me…it'll be the maggot food…if it isn't the maggot food…it would be the grinning duplicate…if it wasn't the grinning duplicate…it would be the ancient sins…and if it wasn't the sins…_

 _A.G.: WHAT DID YOU DO?!_

 _AD.V.: Hahaha…hurt me all you want. Pain isn't a factor for those exposed to His brilliance._

 _Security officer #16: Put your hands in the air sir, back away from Agent Black and place your hands against the wall! Now sir, NOW!_

 _AD.V.: Hey Markie, I've got one last riddle to throw your way; Would you trust the fate of the world in the hands of a sixteen-year-old? Eh? Eheheh…eheha…hahahaha!_

 _Security officer #15: Sir, if you keep moving we will be forced to use lethal force._

 _AD.V.: AHAHAA! Do what you want to! You're going to die soon anyway; you might as well take me with you. HAHAHA! They're screaming right now! I can hear them! Their rutting like pigs underneath the twinkling stars, billions and billions of gears churning void into our preexisting condition. Orifices gambling into oblivion as the sand turns to glass. Rings of smoke watching the pretty little white dresses dot the lane, stomach flipping genius emptying their bowels! I can hear the sniggering trees and the whistling riverbeds, look into the unborn child caverns and see the clock indicators folding into a handshake. SYMPATHIC BADGERS MEWLING IN NECK DEEP IN THE RAPING FEAR! YOU CAN JOT DOWN YOUR SCREAMS BUT I CAN HEAR THE PALE CLOWNS LOOM WITH EVERY YELLOW KICK! STILL, PLAYING MAKE-BELIEVE AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, WE'RE STILL PLAYING MAKE-BELIEVE AFTER ALL THESE YEARS AND WE CAN'T STOP…AHAHAHA!_

 _TRANSCRIPT REGARDING RETIREMENT OF A.B._ _:_

 _A.L.: Jake, I…I'm sorry I ever trusted that lunatic…I didn't think…_

 _A.G.: It's not your fault. I should have known. I should have known…I should have…hey, do you ever get the feeling of déjà vu?_

 _A.L.: What? What does that have to do with anythi-?_

 _A.G.: No…not…not déjà vu, more like…like when the answer is on the tip of your tongue…when something is right in front of you…but no matter what…you just can't touch it. Do you…do you ever get that feeling Agent Lockhart?_

 _A.L.: Oh…uh, nuh-no. No, I don't…is something the matter? You're acting stra-_

 _A.G.: Because I have that feeling all the time. Like I've forgotten something and I'm a terrible person for doing so._

 _A.L.: All I ever get is that prickling on the back of my neck, you know…from when someone is watching you…Jake, I'm not sure that I…I want any of this._

 _A.G.: Heh. A little late for that, isn't it?_

 _A.L.: *Sigh* I-I suppose so._

 _A.G.: C'mon, Black would be scolding us right now for not working. Besides, I've got a lead on this Pines guy._

* * *

 ** _The next short will be out on the 15th._**


	17. Shorts: Legacy & Mr Sweetdreams

_**The first episode of the second season will come out by the 30th (not on the 30th, BY the 30th).**_

* * *

 **Legacy:** _1863, Oregon_

Quentin trudged through the muddy hillside, rifle tight to his chest, and pistols at his waist. Snow adhered to his coat, mustache, and mutton chops. This was the coldest winter which he had yet to experience, which made his task no easier.

Behind him, Prof. Pines was babbling something about his studies. Quentin wasn't paying attention; his eyes were too busy searching for signs of the boy's journey. Thus far he had only found some footsteps and a cracked branch or two. It occurred to him that perhaps the boy knew he would be tracked and used what Quentin had taught him to cover his tracks (for the most part, you didn't get to be as revered as Quentin was for nothing).

Being a newcomer to Serenity Falls, Prof. Pines had taken lodgings in the once frontier town's only inn. There he and Quentin had come across one another, which was a good thing since Quentin was the Mayor and Nathaniel had no intention of coming off his throne of gold to explain the rules in their little community. Of course, Pines had only wanted to observe the local Flora and Fauna, claiming that they were in some "evolutionary pocket."

Now Quentin knew damn well there was no such thing as "evolution" here or anywhere else. Pines was clearly sipping from the same water as that daft-headed Darwin, from across the pond and his blasphemous book.

Still, Pines reminded him of his own, dead, brother. And what was the number one rule in the land of the free? You can believe whatever you want.

So he had not questioned the man's sanity when he began collecting bones and feathers and all other manner of critters in an attempt to prove differences between the animals living in the valley and those outside.

There, in the Inn, Prof. Pines had run into Tom Valentino, a recent orphan as a result of the fire which had claimed both of his parents. Tom had been running chores for Quentin's little hunting club (Brotherhood of the Sharp Eye) to pay for fare and board at the inn but had found that Pines offered better jobs than retrieving chewing tobacco and cleaning guns.

Pines had used the boy's knowledge of the valley paths to accumulate more samples, despite Quentin advising against this. The woods were dangerous, and Tom wasn't grown enough yet to defend himself. As well, Tom was a strong lad, who had survived the hardship which would break lesser children. Quentin didn't want to see his head floating off with strange ideas like evolution and such.

And what do you know it? Tom doesn't come back in over six hours and the two of them end up trying to track him in the middle of a blizzard.

He was angry enough that, had Tom been safe with them, he would have been yelling at Pines for such an idiotic action as to send the boy out before a storm hit. However, his rage was immediately broken when a gunshot rang out and struck a redwood beside them. Quentin yanked the professor down, behind the tree and without a word handed him one of his flintlock pistols.

Without peeking to the side of the tree, he called out. "WHOEVER YOU ARE, LOWER YOUR WEAPONS AND CEASE FIRE OR I WILL BE FORCED TO OPEN FIRE ON YOU! MY NAME IS QUENTIN TRIMBLE THE THIRD, AND WHILE I WAS ELECTED A SENATOR FOR MY SKILLS IN NEGOTIATION, I WAS MADE SHERIFF OF THIS TOWN BECAUSE I CAN SHOOT A MAN FROM A MILE AWAY IN POOR WEATHER CONDITIONS!"

For a moment, he heard nothing but the h0wl of the wind and a man's laughter, then a sickeningly familiar voice called out. "Oh, Quentin! It's just me and the boys…we were hunting and I must have mistaken you for a deer or perhaps a rabbit."

 _Nathaniel._

His hands loosened on his rifle, and he darted out from behind the tree, giving the businessman the evil eye. The older man gave the slightest smile and lowered his own gun. His raven black hair curled lightly in the wind, his spectacles reflecting the dusk light. He wore a dress coat splattered with the blood of whatever bear or buck he'd just slaughtered. The smoke of his gun curled up and met his

"What are you two fella's doing out and about on a wicked night like this one? Out for a romantic walk in the snow?"

His gaggle of followers laughed at the insinuation in his voice, Durland clutching his stomach, and Richneck was so giddy that he had to lay down his gun. Horn gripped Bantam's tunic for support and guffawed. The lot of them licking the boots of Nathaniel in exchange for whatever power he might spit up on them later.

It made Quentin's blood boil, and not just because of what he knew Nathaniel had done. The lot of them, claiming to have brought their families here in the name of creating Eden on earth, were nothing but unambitious frauds. And here they were laughing at him, just cause he was a few years older than most of them and quick to draw his gun.

Had any of them served in wars? Had any of them heard the wail of dead men in the night? Had the peered into the valley's one lake, and noticed that there were things moving beneath the surface which could not be explained?

The book he had stolen from Nathaniel's collection weighed heavy against his breast.

Pines spoke up, and a good thing too, because Quentin was near to starting a full blown brawl. "We're looking for Thomas, you know…the child who survived the fire…?"

Nathaniel adjusted his spectacles and grinned outright, in a morbid fashion which made Quentin wonder about his involvement in that particular fire. "Yes. He came by here not too long ago, Winston at his side."

Richneck spoke up, the lord ready to try his hand at being the jester to make the king laugh. "It's a right shame you didn't accidentally shoot Winston, ain't it?"

Bantam and Durland chuckled, while Horn cast an envious look towards the other man. Nathaniel remained ever unfazed. "Yes. A damn shame."

Quentin stepped closer. "What the hell is that boy doing with the Unionists?"

It had been no question at any point since Winston and his kind had cropped up, that Quentin held a distaste for them. Until recently, he would have considered them near as bad as the tramps who occasionally stumbled through town. His distaste had only been tempered by his discoveries regarding Nathaniel.

Any man who ran a business the way Nathaniel ran his household, could mean no good to anyone.

Nathaniel gave a half-hearted shrug and gestured for his companions to follow him. "I do hope you gentlemen find that boy, I have a feeling we're going to be needing an undertaker before your next birthday, Quentin."

His buddies laughed as they descended the mountain side, UQentin spitting after them and cursing the day that he came in contact with Mr. Norwood and his big plans. He thought he heard Horn tell him to watch out for Unicorns, before bursting into more hilarity. If he could spit again, he would have.

Instead, he called them bastards beneath his breath and tried to focus on Thomas. He could expose Nathaniel's treachery at a later date. Right now there was a boy in danger.

Pines swallowed. "What would Winston want with Thomas?"

Quentin had no idea, so he kept his silence and just told Pines to keep moving. The storm was dying down, which made their movement considerably easier. Especially when they found the unmistakable boot tracks of the mountain of a man who had led Thomas up the mountain.

The tracks led towards Gambler's Peak, and the two were halfway there when they ran across a couple natives. They were crouched next to a stream, the first looking through the frozen river bed, perhaps for fish or peculiar stones, while the second argued at him.

They both stood to attention at the sight of colonists, eyes like a deer's when it sees a hunter. But both relaxed when they recognized Quentin. Trading had been a vital aspect of founding the town in its earlier days. As well, Quentin had known that if they ever wanted to teach the natives about the almighty and Christ, they would have to establish friendly relationships.

He gestured to the tracks, neither of them knowing each other's language (although over the past thirty years, he had certainly picked up on some of their words). Both grew grim. _Don't follow_ , they were saying, mostly with body language, but with occasionally repeating the word which he was sure either meant "death" or "murder."

Straightening up, he gave a shake of his head and hoped that his eyes conveyed the urgency of his mission. Aware of his resignation, they wished him good luck and moved on, wanting no part in what came next.

What did come next? Would he face another unlikely being, like the creatures beneath the water or the little men he had seen moving between the grass blades last autumn?

His grip on his gun tightened and he had the urge to fire it off for no reason and reload it. Stupid idea, it would give away their position. But the urge did not leave with the intake of logic.

They had to be only a quarter of a mile from Gambler's Peak when the younger man spoke up. "I'm sorry."

Quentin raised an eyebrow and Pines continued. "I should have known better. I shouldn't have, well, he is just a child and I should have considered the dangers of exposing him to my studies."

Quentin sighed. "If he went willingly with Winston, then it ain't your fault."

The man's east coast accent shown through as he became more upset. "I know but I…but I…"

Quentin turned to him. "Look, there's no sense in getting all regretful now. You'll have plenty of time for that if we find him hurt or worse."

That didn't ease the man's conscious, but it appeared to keep him from unraveling. And that was good enough for Quentin. He had never been good at the "it's all going to be okay" speeches, probably because when he spoke to his battalion, saying something that false felt like cheating those men out of honor and glory. Instead, he told them how horrible it would be, he prepared them for the fire and the panic.

Pines still felt the need to say something, and definitely, would have, had they not heard a deep moaning coming from above. Quentin raised his gun and crouched so that the snow and the trees concealed his movement. His companion bent to mimic his movement and the two crawled forward, only standing when they had identified the person in question responsible for the sobbing.

It was Winston, on his knees, hands over his face. His red beard was a tangled mess and his shirt was stained with blood. To his right lay his massive axe, abandoned and gleaming in the fading sunlight. He only uncovered his eyes when Quentin called out his name.

"Winston! What the devil happened to you? Where's Thomas?" He asked as he surveyed the area, the sound of his boots crunching on the snow causing nearby birds to flutter off.

Winston stood and gripped the hunter by his coat tips. He began speaking in a rush which grated against the ear as his Scottish accent became more apparent the more panicked he became. "Trimble! I didn't mean for it to happen! I couldn't have known…it had him before I could fight back and then…and then…"

Pines stepped closer, a ferocity finally came into his voice. "Get a hold of yourself man. What took him? What are you talking about?"

Winston swallowed and picked himself up. "A terrible beast, with many heads and arms and legs…it must have come from hell itself. It had so many eyes…so many huge, yellow eyes…it-it emerged from that cave!" He pointed to the cavern which overlooked Gambler's Peak, and Quentin shared a look with Pines.

"I tried to stop it…but it…it swatted me aside like I was an insect and dragged Thomas inside! I'd heard stories but I took them for myth. I came up here to show Tom the whole valley I wanted…I wanted him to learn something but…oh god, that poor child…"

Quentin watched as he fell back into blubbering, a huge man brought low by some traumatic incident which words could not lend justice to.

He turned to Pines and leaned close to give his opinion. "He must have lost his mind…"

Pines shook his head. "Quentin, I believe him to be telling the truth. This valley is full of oddities and I believe…that he and Thomas just ran into a larger one."

Quentin rolled his arms. "Oh, come now Pines. I've seen some strange things, even unexplainable things…but what he described? No such beast could exist, it's physically impossible!"

He had just as soon finished his sentence when a roar emitted from the cave and was followed by the scream of a young boy. Thomas. Quentin's grip on his gun tightened and he felt the entire mountain shake beneath his boots. Another one of those could start an avalanche.

Pines scrambled to remove his pistol and held it tight to his side. "Believe me now, Quentin?"

Quentin removed a pack of bullets. "No one likes a bragger."

He turned to Winston and put on the same voice which he had used to convince men to dive neck-deep into bullets. "Get to your feet man! You're always giving speeches about being brave and fighting Norwood's money...his influence." The wind was picking up. "So get up! C'mon, be brave!"

Snow collected in Winston's beard and against his wet eyes. It bit Quentin's nose and ears.

"SO GET UP!" The former senator insisted, moving his gun for emphasis. "ARE YOU GOING TO LEAVE TOM IN THERE TO DIE? WOULD YOU DO THAT TO YOUR OWN BOYS?"

That comparison tugged him back to reality. "No…"

Quentin offered a hand. "Then don't do it to Margret and Avery's."

Thinking of his neighbors, of the boy inside, Winston took the offered hand and nearly pulled Quentin to the ground as he rose to his full height of seven feet, two inches.

He shook himself and scooped up his axe. Then he bared his teeth and began to march for the cave mouth. Quentin glanced at Pines.

 _Last chance to tell what you know_ ; God must have said within him. _Last chance to repent before you go or he goes or you pretend that you had no hand in the atrocity._

But he let the devil win. He let the little red book in his jacket pocket win.

He did exactly what Nathaniel Norwood (not the person, but the name and its creator) wanted him to.

He patted Pines on the back and told him that it had been nice to know him. Then he marched into the cave before guilt could overwhelm him.

He lifted his oil lamp and illuminated the first twenty feet inside the cave. Winston was standing on the edge of the light, calling out for the beast, demanding that it show itself. Pines had to sprint to catch up with them and came to Quentin's side, panting and wheezing, a lot like how Quentin's own brother had been before he died.

Quentin swallowed. "You got a girl back in the east, Pines?"

Pines cracked a shaky grin, following like Quentin's shadow. "There is one girl…but she is unaware of my affections."

"Oh? What's her name?"

Pines fumbled with his pistol, trying to make sure he had it locked and loaded. "Mabel. Her name is Mabel."

Quentin watched as a creature so large and black that he had taken it for one with the shadow, stirred, annoyed by Winston's fury. Gore dripped from its snout and yellow eyes the size of his head. Were the beast only a house sized bear, that would have been intimidating enough.

But no. He had literally not seen the half of it. The creature just kept uncurling, godly paws striking the stone floor of the cavern and causing the stalactites to shake above. Out of its back, three bumps grew. And from those bumps, grew teeth, then eyes, then noses, and finally, ears, perked at the sound of intrusion.

It roared, its four heads opening to reveal teeth which should have belonged on a carnivorous whale.

"That's a very pretty name." Quentin conceded as he offered, with an unsteady hand, the lamp to Pines.

At first, he thought that Thomas was the bits of flesh giving way from the aberration mouth. Then he saw the huddled form of a child, right next to the remains of the deer which the aberration must have been feeding on.

"Pines…when I give the signal…I want you to get Thomas and run." Quentin muttered as he aimed at one of the creature's eyes, unsure if it mattered which one he hit.

"What? No! You gave me this pistol, I can still fi-"

Quentin snapped back at him. "You're a young man, you and that Mabel of yours? You've got a long way ahead of you. I don't have many years left in me anyway."

 _And besides, I must help atone for what I've done._

"That boy, he deserves to live too. Tom, he doesn't deserve to end up lunch because you wanted to play soldier. Now…you are going to grab him and run because I've no assurance that even all together, we could kill this thing. But you can assure me that he will live a long, healthy life."

Pines wanted to argue but Quentin took the first shot and the aberration's eye burst. It roared and twice the heads and limbs emerged from within it. Then it reared up and Quentin screamed, "STANFORD! STANFORD! RUN YOU IDIOT! SAVE TOM!"

Winston slammed his axe into one of its legs and it bellowed harder than ever. With a swipe, it sent him against the stone. Then it turned its rage on Quentin when another bullet struck another eye.

It half stumbled, half charged at him and he back into the mouth of the cave, giving the impossible beast a gallows grin. At the last possible moment, he leaped to the side and watched the bleeding, stumbling beast go over the edge. It tried to bring him with it, swiping the air where he'd been. But he watched it plummet, strike the Gambler's Peak and roar ever louder. One of its heads was twisted in a fashion which indicated it to be most likely dead.

Quentin shot it, reloaded feverishly, and shot it again, all the while watching as the creature floundered and found it more and more painful to move. He scoffed at its savage roars and greeted Pines, the traumatized Tom, and the limping Winston with a beam.

"See?" He said to Pines with another shot to the creature's chest. "I told you that I had everything under contro-"

The beast roared with all of its working heads and the snow beneath their feet began to dislodge.

 _Oh, god in mighty heaven_. Quentin thought as the snow fell forth and he toppled towards the jaws of the beast. At his belt he grabbed his bowie knife and brought it out, even toppling through the air.

He closed his eyes and begged that his plan work. Then he dove into the beast, into its soft skin, the same skin which parted and rippled to allow extra bones and muscles to come into play. He tore into the creature and tore out, his skin covered in burns from its toxic blood.

Limping, he gave a defeated laugh and fell to the feet of his companions, coughing up blood and shrieking in pain. Both his legs were broken. The knife in his hand had been broken at some point against bone. His eyes rolled to the sky and with a shaking, burning hand, he gripped the book beneath his coat.

Pines was at his side, lying that they could get him back to the infirmary in time. He choked up some more blood and found that he would not be able to speak to Stanford, to explain himself or where he'd found Nathaniel's journal.

 _Ah well, you're a smart kid Stanford. You'll figure it out_ …he thought as the world began to turn bright. He removed the book and his fingers unclenched, dropping it beside his companion.

 _You wanted answers, there you go._

He felt the urge to laugh, despite the fact that doing so was physically painful. The book had called him a shooting star, and here, staring up at the sky, all he could see was streaks of light against the darkness.

Soon there would be no light and just the darkness.

Quentin wondered as the pain became less and less real, and as everything was peeled away into the snow, if he would go to hell for helping Nathaniel Norwood or whoever that puppet of a man really was, set something terrible in motion. He doubted they had in the room in heaven for men who liked other men and men who (willingly or not) assisted Satanists.

Well, it wasn't like there would be much hunting in heaven anyhow.

Ah, there was that darkness he'd been looking forward to.

* * *

 **Mr. Sweetdreams:**

 _June 1 – hey diary! my name is mabel pines! i will be six in AugusT!_

 _My parents dropped me and my brother, dipper, oFF at our great uncles house, This morning. i'm so excited to be here since grunkle (I call him that because hes my great uncle) lee visited for christmas lasT year and my sTomach hurT he was so Funny. my other grunkle is named Ford, and he is less Funny. But he boughT me and dipper each a diary so that we can record all our advenTures here in gravity falls, so he's jusT as nice! grunkle lee works a used car dealership ouT behind the house, and he has a really nice man named soos working wiTh him! soos is cuddly like a magical panda man! he got me and dipper some candy from the snack machine in the back aFTer iT jammed. dipper is as excited to be here, he is deTurmined to make some Friends, since he didn'T make any at KindergarTen. i'm going To help him too! dipper deserves all the Friends in the world for being such a great brother!_

 _i'll write more Tomorrow, righT now i need To sleep. LasT week i had a loT of nighTmares and i've been Feeling real Tired!_

 _Goodnight, Diary!_

 _June 2 –_

 _hey diary, i made some Friends already! me and dipper goed into the woods and heard someone playing the FluTe. We Followed iT and meT a really handsome and Funny man named norman. He broughT us to his family, who were like gypsys exept they played irish music! dipper FelT weird around Them buT i danced to Their music and They laughed. norman Told me ThaT i was really good aT iT._

 _buT Then Grunkle Ford showed up and was really angry we didnT say where we were going. The fair folk leFT real Fast and Grunkle Ford made us promise not to enter the woods without an adult._

 _i'll miss Norman but iT is For the besT. Grunkle Ford doesn'T want anything to happen to us._

 _we'll Talk Tomorrow, Diary._

 _June 3 –_

 _We goed to The lake. ExcepT Grunke Ford, he had someThing To work on. He's always working. But at least he doesn'T work as much as daddy!_

 _Grunkle lee introduced me to his friend, mr. micgucket, who is weird but nice! he me a lollipop and than gave dipper a lollipop. Grunkle lee took him with us on our fishing trip. The two of them told a story about the gobblewonker and dipper got all freaked ouT._

 _Hee hee, he gets scared easy._

 _i caught a fish, Grunkle lee Took a phoTo and promised To always keep iT. He gave me a copy To keep wiTh you! you said you wanTed someThing of mine To undersTand me._

 _June 4 –_

 _i had another nightmare. dipper is really scared about me. he could hardly sleep. Grunkle lee is taking me to a doctor on Sunday._

 _Diary, do you know any way to stop the nightmares?_

 _June 5 –_

 _grunkle Ford TaughT me and dipper how To play chess. i couldnT concenTraTe wiTh my headaches._

 _Diary, are The windows and Trees supposed To have eyes or am being silly again?_

 _June 6 –_

 _Thank you For the answer, Diary. I'll Try not to be silly._

 _June 8 –_

 _The docTor didnT have anyThing Too say. Grunkle Lee got angry. im sorry Diary, im too tired to reporT every day._

 _IT is becoming very rainy._

 _June 9 –_

 _Sorry for calling you Diary all This Time. You must be an angel for helping me with my sleeping trouble, Mr. Sweetdreams._

 _i've never heard of an angel speaking by whispering From someone's diary. IsnT a diary supposed Too be The mosT privatest place Too a person? Oh well, iT dosenT maTTer. You saved me and ThaT's all that maTTers._

 _June 10 –_

 _Mr. Sweetdreams, could you visiT dippers diary? He doesnT believe you exisT and i know you would make him feel beTTer. He Thinks your anoTher imaginary Friend._

 _well, don'T worry. i know your real. Things which arenT real canT see, can They?_

 _June 11 –_

 _Dipper says ThaT There is someThing musT be wrong To be sleep walking. Silly dipper, I dont sleepwalk._

 _June 11 –_

 _Mr. Sweetdreams, why is Grunkle Lee and Grunkle Ford so afraid? They are running all over the place, grabbing things and telling me to pack my bags._

 _Mr. Sweetdreams, why is my hand so itchy?_

 _June 12 –_

 _We are in an RV. I am seeing geometric symbols no matter where I look. My language appears to be advancing at an alarming rate._

 _My hand is bleeding profusely and I don't know the cause._

 _Mr. Sweetdreams, please respond. You are frightening me and I have the worst hunch that you are doing it on purpose._

 _6/14/06 –_

 _I AM NOT ME._

 _I AM NOT HER._

 _I AM BURNING UP._

 _I AM NOT A SHOOTING STAR._

 _I AM NOT ME._

 _I AM NOT HER._

 _I AM BURNING UP._

 _I AM NOT A SHOOTING STAR._

 _I AM NOT ME._

 _I AM NOT HER._

 _I AM BURNING UP._

 _I AM NOT A SHOOTING STAR._

 _I AM NOT ME._

 _I AM NOT HER._

 _I AM BURNING UP._

 _I AM NOT A SHOOTING STAR._

 _I AM NOT ME._

 _I AM NOT HER._

 _I AM BURNING UP._

 _I AM NOT A SHOOTING STAR._

 _I AM NOT ME._

 _I AM NOT HER._

 _I AM BURNING UP._

 _I AM NOT A SHOOTING STAR._

 _ENTRY 46_

 _pineTree is worried abouT me. Maybe iT is because i Told ThaT joke about suFFocaTion. Maybe iTs because my eyes were bleeding jusT a momenT ago._

 _He looks about ready To cry. i hope he does. He looks so cuTe when he cries, like ThaT Time he broke his ankle invesTigating the cellar. or ThaT Time The girl he gave a Flower and she called him names unTil hoT Tears poured down his cheeks and he hid in his closeT to proTecT shootingsTar._

 _IT Feels so cold here. Especially wiTh all This blood gone._

 _IF he cried i bet i would Feel warmer._

 _sixFingers wanTs to lock me up beFore i do someThing, but crescentmoon is refusing. What did i do wrong? i'm just reFerring To Them by Their real names._

 _i bet iF i made PineTree cry They would sTop arguing._

 _The monsTers and The liars are dressing all snappy For our moral deparTure. i hope you have your mask ready, because mine is clear as day and pretty as dandelions._

 _Woops, my eyes are bleeding again. And cue The water works._

 _thereisnotimehere –_

 _NO NO I DONT LIKE THIS PLEASE MAKE IT STOP PLEASE I DON'T LIKE THIS PLEASE MAKE IT STOP I DONT WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE PLEASE STOP NO PLEASE MAKE IT STOP PLEASE NO I DONT LIKE THIS ANYMORE PLEASE STOP PLEASE MY HAND AND MY ARM AND MY EYES AND MY BRAIN AND MY MEMORIES PLEASE MAKE IT STOP THEY DONT DESERVE THIS PLEASE WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?_

 _Entry 50 –_

 _Because I find pain entertaining._

 _June 20 –_

 _I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry._

 _August 8 –_

 _Me and Dipper are being sent home_

 _But Grunkle Lee wants to show us something first_

 _He is going to do something, the same something which put a smile on Soos's face after he watched me do those horrible things_

 _The same something which makes McGucket tell the same fishing story twice in a row_

 _I don't want it but I have no choice_

 _Goodbye Diary, please don't talk to me again._

 **[0]**

Wendy Corduroy raised her head from the pink diary, her eyes turning to the photo lodged next to the pages. Dipper, gave a goofy grin which reminded her of Eddie from underneath his fishing cap. Stan had stitched "Dippy" into the front of the hat, something which she found rather enlightening towards the old man's sentiments. Mabel stood with her arm around her brother's shoulder, wearing a similar hat dubbed "Mabel", and Stan leaned over them, with his arms around them both. They were giggling, the sunshine of the afternoon sun scintillating off their soft cheeks and warm brown eyes. Behind them, the big-bellied mechanic which five-year-old Mabel had mentioned was showing McGucket how to drive the boat they were on.

Even in the photo, McGucket looked better. He had less of a beard, and he was wearing a dirty suit rather than a pair of overalls and worn out jeans. His eyes did not look so glassy and he was even smiling.

Blood had dried to the photo, as it had menaced various pink pages in the diary up until this point.

But it was neither the blood nor the way in which the handwriting and language had changed over the course of the diary (which appeared to have been stripped of most of its pages). It was not the way in which Mabel had begged to regain control of her own body which caused Wendy's hands to shake as she held the time capsule of information.

It was the last line, written across the bottom of the page and underlined.

 _"Forgive me Snowflake."_

Wendy wanted to burn the book.

She wanted to destroy the final evidence of whatever terrible occurrence had torn into the world of the little girl who had owned this book, taking the life of their great uncle and shattering the childhood harmony. Maybe if the book burned, everything else would too, and Bill would have never been summoned in the first place. Maybe the years would peel back and be replaced by something better (anything would have been better).

She couldn't imagine going through such terrible things when she had been that age.

Still, there was something wrong with the fact that it had been Mabel (if the handwriting was to be believed) who had both known Wendy would be reading the diary eleven years later and had known that Bill had referred to her as "SnowFlake" back on Glass Island (or else, known that Snowflake was her mother's nickname for her).

Chills ran down her spine as she imagined knowledge, demonically acquired knowledge poured or rather, _forced_ into Mabel's tender consciousness. Her stomach tied in knots at the desperation apparent in those last, well placed words. They were a bombshell waiting to go off, but they were also an S.O.S. sent a decade too late.

A little girl, begging to be forgiven. What could be more terrible than that?

"Are you finished?"

Wendy jolted into movement, turning to find Mabel in the doorway. The box in the brunette's arms, containing a mixture of discarded mail Stan had never bothered to throw away and of tangled Christmas lights.

Christmas lights. Christmas with Great Uncle "Lee" and Great Uncle "Ford." Wendy felt her heart pour for the girl, never able to experience that same sense of family again.

"Uhhh…you are looking at me kind of weird…" Mabel said as she shifted, struggling to keep from dropping the box. She spoke up as she placed it beside the doorway to the garage, moving towards the trash bag from which Wendy had fished out the diary.

"Whatchyou got there?" She asked with inquisitiveness which made Wendy want to turn her around and give some cheesy response appealing to Mabel's humor.

Instead, she slid the pink notebook into her back pocket and gave a faulty grin. "Nothing. I was just getting nostalgic uh, staring at the old Shack attractions…"

Mabel raised an eyebrow, but forgot Wendy's strangeness when she spotted the head of a wax Sherlock Holmes dummy poking out of the trash bag. "Oh wow, you're right. This stuff is cool! Do we have to throw it away? I bet this guy would look good in my room…heh, I could even sculpt him a little Watson…"

Wendy nodded, even though Mabel couldn't see her.

It had been upsetting to watch her friend grow more and more withdrawn following her brother's coma, but Mabel appeared to have bounced back within two days to her regular self. Going to school had certainly helped, as it kept her and Dipper out of trouble.

The mudane an activity of clearing out Stan's guest room had brought out the best in her as well. Although, she was taking the fact that Dipper would no longer be sleeping in the same room as her, better than Wendy had anticipated.

Still, Wendy couldn't help thinking of all the times she'd heard Mabel mutter to herself in the past month. What if when Mabel was possessed by Bill, the demon had left a shred of his own madness deep inside of her, something buried until recently, but something which couldn't be undone?

Mabel raised her gaze and put her hands on her hips as she stood. "Why are you acting weird? Did you see something?"

Nervous laughter accompanied the query but Wendy could tell that Mabel was biting back a powerful anxiety. _Just when you think everything is normal, someone or something will turn on you_ , it said.

"Heh, sorry…I was up all last night…uh, texting. I'm kind of zoned out."

Mabel was about to say something when she spotted the black glass pyramid which resided on the window sill. Like a five-year-old she climbed onto the sofa and began inspecting it, complaining that Dipper was going to have all the cool stuff in his room.

 _Probably for the best he doesn't find this._ Wendy considered as she inched out the doorway.

Combined with the nightstand book from Glass Island and the notes collected from McGucket's childhood home, she was gaining an awful lot of information on the people who she was friends with (although associating Stan with any word other than "colleague" felt generous). That should have made her feel guiltier than it did. But what good could the mutilated journal do in any case? At best it would remind them as to who they should be wary of. At worst it could activate blocked out memories and incite a whole new kind of trauma.

Questions were buzzing in her head. Yet as she watched Mabel zip about the guest room, she found that there was only one which she could answer herself as long as the other pages remained missing.

 _Is the demon still on the other end of the phone?_


	18. S2, E1: Mass Exhumation

**Episode 1: Mass Exhumation**

 ** _I'm happy to be back._**

* * *

 _Mabel Pines sat at the foot of the hospital bed, unable to shed any more tears or to cast any more blame. Blood red light spilled in from the window and it occurred to her that the reason no nurses or doctors were available was because everyone was standing outside, staring at the incoming catastrophe. Something so unbelievable must attract attention. But all Mabel could do was stare at her brother and mourn what she had done to him._

* * *

 _(A few weeks previous…)_

He awoke in darkness. He did not know where he was. He did not know who he was. He did not know why he was naked.

He did know that he was cold and wet and that the sounds of machinery surrounded him. He hobbled towards the only light, the seam of a doorway, and crouched, running his hands across the cold metal. He uncovered no knobs or keyholes, only a little metal slot the length of his hand. Warm air lay on the other side the slot and briefly, the man snapped his hand back. He tried again and this time, he felt pain course through his middle finger.

Something had bit him.

Clutching his bleeding finger to his chest, he inched away from the slot and curled against the wall opposite the door. The anonymous man paced his breathing and felt a voice begin to filter through his thoughts.

 **Hi, buddy…you and I are going to be best of friends!**

 **[0]**

Gorney was snapped out of his daydream about Pacifica Norwood kissing him by the sound of a girl screaming. Eyes wide, he took in the classroom and discovered that all the faces in the room were drawn towards him. Orange light shed through the windows to his left and illuminated the minute Algebra class of Gravity Falls High. He knew almost everyone in the class by name, thought this did not decrease his unease at being observed by so many.

He was used to and perfectly fine with being ignored.

Another scream and he jolted completely awake. It wasn't him they were staring at. It was the brunette next to him, doubled over and clutching her right hand with her left. The knuckles were white, her pained expression hidden by a wall of unkempt hair. She was whimpering and wheezing, her entire form quivering. Mrs. Thurman had taken a break from the mind-numbing power of Algebra to ask the girl what was wrong.

As he asked what happened to her hand, feeling a little stupid for dozing off and missing whatever had hurt this girl, people began standing, all echoing his and Mrs. Thurman's question.

The girl didn't respond, instead jumping to her feet and pushing through the crowd. Only when she was halfway into the school hall did she mention something about a wasp. The excuse was strained, barely above a whisper, and flimsy to the ear.

But Gorney recognized her as soon as she'd spoke. No one else he knew had such a distinctive voice. How could he forget her when every day he came into school and heard her bouncing off the walls, brimming with excitement for something or other.

She was Mabel Pines. One-half of the duo who had joined their little slice of nowhere. According to cafeteria discussion he'd overheard, she was both "the weird girl who holds hands with her brother" and "the chick who would probably make for a great lay."

All he knew about her was that she'd come from California and that she wore a different sweater every day. This one had been white, with a little yellow duckling on it.

After a moment of confusion, Mrs. Thurman dismissed the class and raced after Mabel. At first, Gorney was surprised, but then he realized they were five minutes away from exiting class anyway.

As he slid his books into his backpack, he could hear a boy behind him claiming that there had been no wasp.

The girl he was talking to responded with the vocal equivalent of a shrug, topping it off with "maybe she's got a skin condition, that's why she always where's gloves."

Gorney realized with this eavesdropping that she had always worn gloves whenever he saw her. As he slid on his backpack, he remembered the only time he'd ever held a conversation with her.

She'd been sitting out next to a tree during recess, clutching her head. When he asked what was wrong, her only response was "Dipper is busy. All alone today."

It had come out in the snivel of a small child. He hadn't known how to react how or how to help, so he turned away from those drowning eyes of hers and apologized to her. She had grunted.

Until now, he had not placed the crying girl beside the tree, with the same face of the happy weird kid who left stickers on her face and stored gum in her locker. Until hearing that regret in her screams.

It mirrored her lonely, little kid voice. Whatever had happened to her hand, she considered herself guilty for it.

Did she cut herself? Had she allowed someone to bruise her hands and then had accidentally caused herself pain? Neither explanation made much sense and both left Gorney with a terrible feeling in his stomach.

As he stepped into the hall, two girls ran into him. He was sent careening to the floor, his head striking the wall and transforming into a nest of stinging. The smaller of the two (Cho? Right?) apologized and helped him up, before running after her friend (was that Pacifica? What the hell was she doing with Cho?). They were both headed towards the bathroom.

Body tensing, Gorney picked up his backpack and headed to his locker. Up until this point in his life, his days had been rather predictable. True, last summer had been full of surprises (the riots, the SWATT team driving through town, the strange weather patterns, and the burning of the Norwood lake house). But Gorney had always could avoid these things, he had could keep out of the way and enjoy his painfully tedious life.

Life reminded him that one day he would go to college and probably get an apartment in the city. He would meet the love of his life and then never must consider his hometown again. That's the way it should have been. Going to school, daydreaming about a girl who wouldn't look twice at him, riding his bike, and working at the grocery store during the summer.

But that layer of thought had been shed the moment that Mabel Pines cried out. There was something wrong, something which had shaken his mental foundations.

He had just entered the dirt road which led behind the school and towards his house when a black car cruised out from the other side of the dirt road. It was mostly concealed by the shade which the ceiling of branches above him created, creating the image of two headlights headed towards him at an alarming pace.

Realizing that the car was no slowing down, Gorney turned on his heel and tried to dart off the road and into the dry ditch. His shoe snagged on a branch, however, and his backpack struck the base of his skull while his chin made contact with the sand and kicked up leaves. The car jerked to stop beside him and two men stepped out. Both were dressed in ashen suits, their eyes concealed by shades and their thoughts shrouded with stoicism.

The first bent and offered a hand. For the second time that day, Gorney took the help and was pulled to his feet.

"Sorry, for the scare son. We're from the CIA, we're just in a bit of a hurry."

Gorney swallowed. "I-I-I-"

The second stepped closer. "Calm down, we aren't here for you."

Gorney swallowed. "Then wuh-why-"

The first grew a grin which sent shivers down Gorney's spine and clapped his shoulder with an iron grip as he spoke. "You are going to help us save the world."

 **[0]**

Mabel stared at her hand, vision blurry from tears. Her mascara must have been smearing at this point, but that, along with the cramping in her legs from crouching in the restroom stall, was the last thing on her mind. The floor was cold against her left hand, a sharp contrast against the burning sensation in his right hand.

The triangular brand which Bill had placed on her hand to "seal the deal" had only recently begun to itch a week ago. Now it felt like a thousand hornets were digging around underneath her skin, it was far worse than the searing pain of the original handshake.

She pressed it back into the toilet bowl, her other hand braced against the wall of the bathroom stall. The water kept giving less and less relief with every time she touched it and her teeth were drawing blood from her lip she was trying so hard to keep from screaming.

The result was a mixture of moaning and sobbing, which echoed pathetically off of the poorly painted ladies room ceiling. She could feel Bill watching her right now, she could hear his thought piercing giggle.

"Mabel? Are you alright?"

It was the teacher. What's her name? Mabel was having trouble caring enough to remember or respond.

 _Just leave me alone…leave me alone so I can off my hand and I'll stop hearing him laughing at me._

The scariest part of this thought was that she was unsure how serious she was about the actual act of mutilation. _That would serve him right, that would teach that demon. You can't outsmart Mabel Pines. She won't let you kill her, she'll kill herself before you can._

"Mabel! I'm calling an ambulance!"

 _No, don't do that. If you do that then they'll put me in a hospital room and when they've tested every single drug and I still can't stop screaming, they're going to bind my hands to keep me from hurting myself. Then they are going to find a nice white cell to keep me in and a nice mental illness to fit the bill. And my hand is still going to feel like it's in hell for the rest of my life…_

Mabel wanted to speak, she wanted to startle the poor woman with a shriek and demand that she do no such thing. But she didn't have to. Pacifica was talking with the teacher, telling her that she had Mabel's medication and that her uncle would be here soon to pick her up.

That seemed to convince her, although had anyone but the charming blonde have said it, Mabel had no doubt Mrs. Orman would have seen through the lies.

Pacifica rapped on the door. "Mabel? What's the problem?"

Whimpering, Mabel forced herself to remove her hand from the water. The pain had receded, but she was sure it would return to tear at her nerve endings.

"My…my hand…I…I made a duh-duh-deal…"

Everything tasted like iron. _Didn't Attila the Hun die from blood running down his throat? Wouldn't choking be preferable to live with this pain? She should make a statue about that, choking on your own blood. That's the kind of pretentious stuff which gets rewards, right?_

 _Gideon's blood on her hands, all of those girl's blood on his hands. Bill's hands in every pie and everybody's blood. And everybody's blood pie. Ha!_

Her tittering delirium was replaced by dread as the pain returned. She was drowning in the red now, but all the iron and copper had been taken out of it, so she couldn't tell what was water and what was blood.

Wasn't blood supposed to be thicker than water? Right. Then she needed to find her blood-brother. Heh, bloody brother.

"Mabel?"

Candy. Sweet and small, waiting to be chewed on.

"My hand…it's burning…" She crouched to the door and reached up, forced to use her left hand to grip the metal bolt and slide it over. The simple action felt like climbing a mountain.

She stared up at the two of them, blood beginning to surround her palm on the cold floor of the bathroom. They both watched in concern and then horror when she lifted her hand and revealed the scar on her palm, highlighted by a glowing yellow lying beneath the surface of her skin.

"…I need Dipper." She said like a toddler asking to be taken to the bathroom, before collapsing at her friend's feet.

 **[0]**

Stan removed his tie. He gave himself a little smile and stepped over to his desk and placed it on his chair. He had always been a fan of conserving space, and as such had seen no reason not to keep business accounts in the same place as his bed.

After grabbing a couple letters and stashing them in the pocket of his suit, he grabbed his wrinkled red fez and placed it on his head. One more time he stopped in front of the mirror as if to check that the old man staring back really was him.

 _You're finally going straight._ He had never expected to live to see this day. He had the overwhelming desire to tell his dad father that "he had told him so."

He had both outlived and outworked his father now. Neither accomplishment felt as fulfilling as he might have once expected, but the knowledge that he was a good enough parental figure that the twins had forgiven him, gave him the smug assurance that he was a better person than his father at least in that area.

Of course, it hadn't been as simple as a hug and a "we understand." Dipper's terms had been simple; All criminal connections needed to be cut and Stan needed to (eventually) show them the machine he used to alter their memories. While the latter was impossible until he located that damn piece of junk (he must have misplaced it at some point throughout the years), he had begun the former as of this Monday.

Well, no, he hadn't told them what his brother and McGucket had tried to accomplish. He hadn't told them what those agents now had their hands on.

But he would abide by those conditions. Tomorrow would be the grand reopening, this time with a Stan Pines actually attempting to make money in a (semi) honest fashion.

He would need to hire someone to help him print the merchandise and keep the Shack clean now that Dipper and Mabel were in school, McGucket had a job, and Wendy, well, she only ever visited to spend time with the twins.

But he'd done a pretty good job if he said so himself. _I wish you were here to see me, Sixer._ He thought as he removed his suit and noticed that there were no stains on his wife beater.

Mabel or Dipper must have done the laundry of their own accord. That was comforting in a strange kind of way which unexpected events usually were not.

Grabbing a couple beers, he headed out onto the deck. He was ready to kick back and relax. However, some idiot had parked an RV in his parking lot.

With a grown, he descended the staircase and was about to yell at the driver that this was public property and that they were closed and that he owned many guns and was not shy about calling the sheriff.

Then the driver himself popped out and greeted Stan with a forced smile. "Stanford! How long has it been?"

Stan dropped his beer as he inspected the old man's Hawaiian shirt and massive sunglasses. "Shermy…not long enough."

His younger brother grinned and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Haha! You always were the joker."

 _No, I wasn't._

Stan's brow furrowed. "What do you want?"

"I like your frankness. You never put up with anyone's bullshit." Shermy said as he inspected Stan's home. The skinny Florida-resident folded his sunglasses and placed them in his pocket. "So I'll get to the point…"

He removed a piece of paper from the pocket of his khakis and handed it over to Stan with a suddenly solemn demeanor. "Everything has already been arranged, all you got to do is sign the bottom line and they'll be out of your hair."

Stan glowered at the piece of paper. "Shermy, what the hell is this?"

A smile cut the corner of the younger man's mouth. "The custody of course."

 **[0]**

Dipper Pines swallowed. He cracked his knuckles. He puffed up his chest and re-adjusted his backpack. He checked his breath and put on his best smile.

Then he marched across the gym floor until he was directly behind Emma Sue and lightly tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned and greeted his anxiousness grin with a beam. "Dipper!"

Dipper licked his suddenly dry lips and returned his sweaty palms into his pockets. "H-hey Emma, I was just wondering…if you'd like to go…uh…" _Just spit it out, you sound like an idiot!_

Dipper did just that. "My uncle is holding this party to celebrate re-opening his shop and I was wondering if you wanted to come. I know, it will probably be really lame but I figured we just hang out on the porch and leech off the refreshments."

She frowned and his heart plummeted. "Oh, I'm sorry Dipper…" Her voice was not drenched in pity as he'd been afraid, but still had the apologetic gentleness which he'd preferred flat out refusal to. "…but I need to help take care of my grandma tomorrow night."

Dipper nodded and eased away, feeling the eyes of all Emma's friends on him. They were waiting for his reaction.

"Okay. Sure. That makes sense." He closed his eyes and then re-opened them. "Maybe some other time?"

Emma's frown disappeared. "Sure! Here," She wrote down her number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. He took it as if it were the holy grail.

"This way you can text me next time." She said with a smile which lifted his spirits.

"Yeah. Great." He was about to say something else and bolt, but Pacifica came running up to him and whispered something in his ear.

He gave Emma smile before telling her to have a good weekend before following Pacifica out the front doors and to the bench on the school's front lawn. They were mostly obscured from the vision of other students by the tall hedges and the bodies of Candy and Pacifica.

He fell to one knee and began inspecting his half-conscious twin's hand.

He glanced up from her palm as he spoke. "Mabel…how did this happen?"

She opened her mouth and he noticed how pale and nauseous she looked. It sent a shiver down his spine.

She gripped his hand with hers and spoke in such a distant manner, that it scared him. It sounded like she was confessing on her deathbed, or otherwise that Candy and Paz had ceased to exist and it was just the two of them in this place.

"Dipper…I didn't want to…but they were going to lock me up and you…I was afraid you were going to die."

Dipper squeezed her hand and locked eyes with her. "What did you do Mabel? I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"Is everything alright here?"

Dipper, Candy, and Pacifica looked up to find Principal Horn staring at them with a raised eyebrow, his bald scalp shiny in the afternoon sun. Mabel just kept inspecting the grass.

Pacifica stood up and gave the same smile which made her head of the cheerleading squad. "Mabel just got stung by a wasp, sir."

Horn narrowed his eyes before glancing between Pacifica and the three of them. Preston would want him to leave them alone.

"Alright…but the three of you better clear out soon. Understood?"

They all nodded, except for the "stung" girl, who just stifled a maddening giggle. He scowled at her, but when she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, he was taken aback. Her eyes did not focus on him but instead, they stared through him.

Horn turned away, a pit in his stomach growing by the second. _Fucking Norwood...why do you have to protect these freaks?_ He wondered as he moved to his car and tried to shake the image of the girl's eyes from his mind.

Dipper turned back to Mabel. "Mabel…what happened?"

 **[0]**

When Wendy arrived to pick up the twins, she found Mabel clinging to Dipper and crying into his shoulder.

Since the beginning of the school year, she had traded in her van in for a beat up sedan and (still legally being a guardian) had become responsible for driving the twins between The Shack and school.

Most of the time they were happy to see her. Sometimes, she could tell they'd had a difficult day. But this was the first time she'd caught them in such a moment.

"Guys? What's the problem?"

Mabel turned away from her brother and met Wendy's gaze with red eyes. Dipper looked like he'd aged a dozen years and was doing his best to keep a failing marriage together.

"Get in. You can tell me on the way." Wendy told them.

They were both happy to sit down in the back seat and lie against the seats. Pacifica asked if she would see them at the fair.

Dipper gave her a half-sarcastic response. "We'll be sure to call you."

Wendy waited five minutes before asking in a small voice, what had happened. Dipper, knowing his sister did not feel like recounting the emotionally draining story, leaned closer to Wendy and did it for her.

By the end of the explanation, they were a couple blocks away from the Shack and Wendy felt like a stranger inside her own car. She kept glancing at Mabel for some reaction, some change in mood. The girl remained despondent, however, and Wendy was left, wondering how much control Bill now had over her.

What if he did the same thing he'd done before? What if someone died like they had last time?

Well, now might not be the best time to reveal that she had Mabel's old diary. Although Dipper seemed to have forgiven his sister for keeping the murder and deal, that circumstance was much more understandable than her own desire to prevent events from repeating themselves via keeping secrets.

Still, there was no way she could keep this from him.

She parked the car and opened the dashboard. Dipper seemed confused at the stop, but Wendy ignored his questioning. By now she had read the diary a dozen times, usually while parked outside her apartment.

She handed the book to Dipper. "I found this last week while clearing out the guest room. I'm sorry I didn't show it to you earlier…I didn't want to upset either of you."

Dipper was confused at first, flipping through the pages with a sense of incredulity. Then, as he continued, he grew more and more disturbed. His hands were shaking by the time he'd reached the final sentence.

Wendy swallowed. "I also…while I was traveling…I communicated with a demon which I believe was Bill…it said that it couldn't be killed and that…that my name was SnowFlake. I think it knew…or Mabel knew at the time…I would find that book."

Dipper looked up, first at her then at his still motionless sister. He took a shuddering breath before closing his eyes.

"Wendy?"

"Yes, Dipper?" She responded without taking her eyes off of the trees which towered over them.

"Could you help me find Gideon's book? I…I'm sure the answer to relieving Mabel's pain or…or even getting rid of the brand is in there."

She nodded solemnly. "Of course."

Dipper's hands were shaking. "And…could you show me anything else which you might have found?"

He was taking this rather well. She wondered if it was being in Stan's mind or being in a coma which had changed his reaction to discovering that people had betrayed him.

"Of course."

He nodded and lay back, before handing the diary to Mabel. She didn't look at it twice, merely placing it on the floor of the car, next to a crumpled up can of Pepsi and a wrapper from burger king. Her feet swayed over it as she stared out the window at the empty road.

Wendy restarted the car and pulled onto the road. Despite how quickly this day had gone from average to dread-inducing, she felt relatively well about fixing it.

That is until she saw the RV and heard the yelling of Stan and someone else emanating from The Shack.

She sighed and didn't even bother to curse under her breath. "Shit. We've got company."

 **[0]**

McGucket felt a hand against his shoulder.

He looked up from the scrawling code and found Hyeon staring down at him with a patient smile. "Ford, you can leave now."

Nodding, McGucket stood and fixed his tie. "Sorry, I got a little wrapped up there." He said, eyes still darting to the screen.

Hyeon nodded and brought the older man away from the monitor and into the hall just outside the room. He spoke as the wall of glass to their right illuminated the way to the elevator. "I know, we are all very excited for project A.N.N.E., but we need you to get your rest. You are, after all, the most talented person in this building."

McGucket blushed. "Thank you sir, but I don't really believe that's so…after all, you and your wife are the ones who came up with the idea."

Hyeon gave a bashful gesture. "It's not exactly an original idea, Ford."

McGucket disagreed as the younger man called the elevator. "Oh but it is! If they had what we're working on when I was child…well, let's just say I think I would have had a better childhood."

Hyeon smiled and responded as the elevator doors opened. "I think we all would have."

 **[0]**

Brenda parked her cycle a block away from the school, at the same spot where she always picked up Candy. She was surprised to find that her girlfriend was nowhere in sight.

Her hands tensed against the gun in the pocket of her coat as a vision of all the possible horrors which Candy might encounter came crashing down on her. What if the bigots had followed her and she would be found later, carved up and charred. What if the demon was back and it was picking them off one by one? What if-?

That tenseness disappeared when she heard the sound of exertion and saw that Candy was running towards her. There was nothing chasing her, but the shorter girl certainly looked chased.

Brenda jogged forward cautiously to meet Candy and only spoke when the girl had stopped to catch her breath and was a foot away. "Hey, Babe is something wro-?"

Candy bolted forward and wrapped her arms around Brenda. Her body was shaking in that same way which it always did when she felt overwhelmed. Her soft black hair nuzzled against Brenda's chin and her arms clung on with a strength which would not have been apparent from the look of her.

"Woah. You okay, Jae?"

Brenda swore, if her girlfriend's parents had said one more thing to put the girl on edge, then the gun in her pocket would come in real handy. She was sick of listening to how they were fucking with their own daughter's head this week.

Candy saw her expression and shook her head. "It's Mabel. She made a deal with the dream demon to save Dipper and now…her hand is bleeding and I'm afraid that it is going to kill her and I…I…could you please just drive me somewhere."

Despite her hysteria, Candy was able to speak clearly and coherently. Well, that's what happened when you convinced your girlfriend to spend hundreds of hours tutoring you in English.

Still, Brenda was confused and taken aback. And the mere mention of that terrible thing which had invaded Stan Pines' mind, was enough to send her heart into panic mode.

From Candy's expression, she could tell that pressing the subject at the moment would induce more fear and sorrow. And she knew that if she pushed Candy into a breakdown then she would never forgive herself.

"Alright. Where do you want to go?"

Candy licked her lips. "Anywhere. Out of this town. Someplace silent…please…"

"Please" had become one of Candy's favorite words since becoming fluent in English. As a result, Brenda had come to loathe the word whenever it passed through her girlfriend's lips.

So Brenda repeated the same answer which always followed Candy's begging. "Of course. Anything for you."

They drove for what felt like hours, only stopping once to refill Brenda's motorcycle. Just the two of them and the wind. The world felt so much more colorful with Candy's arms around her waist and her head resting against the back of her neck. When she finally stopped, Candy was so sleepy, that Brenda picked her up (against the girl's half-hearted protests) and carried her down to the spot of the beach where the sand was caked and of a different color.

She sat down behind Candy and it was her turn to hug her girlfriend's waist and rest her head on her shoulder. After watching a fishing craft land on the pier about half a mile away, Brenda stood and purchased a couple ice creams from the nearby stand. Hers was strawberry, Candy's was cashew (as always).

Candy took the ice cream with a grin and kissed her in thanks. While working at the grocery was hard work, it was certainly worth it to afford things which cheered up her beauty.

"This good enough?" Brenda asked as gulls flew overhead.

Candy kicked off her shoes and scooted forward so that the Pacifica ocean could lick her flawless little toes.

"Perfect." She responded with another bite of her double-scoop.

 **[0]**

Robbie surveyed the valley, his feet dangling from the edge of Gambler's Peak. Tambry sat next to him, her head against his shoulder.

"It's nice, isn't it?" She asked as they watched birds erupt from the trees and speckle the fading sun.

He nodded. It had been his idea to come up here anyhow.

Her visits to college had meant that he spent most of his days alone. That oppressive sense of uselessness which had overcome him since the explosion, had in turn, become his best friend. It greeted him when he woke up and tucked him in at night.

However, Tambry drove the two hours it took just so that they could spend the day together. Hiking had never really been her thing, she abhorred nature. But she had done it for him, as the act was something which made him feel free and nostalgic.

As well, escaping the town and rising above it onto the mountain side, had been very cathartic for dealing with unemployment.

"Robbie?"

"Uh huh?"

She hesitated before continuing. "You haven't been spending time with uh, the Pines twins, have you?"

He had to snort with laughter. She sounded like a version of his mother, breaching the subject of him hanging around with the wrong time only more delicately.

"Not recently, but Mabel still pops by every day to check up on me."

She swallowed and spoke as she stared at him. "And you don't think…that there is anything wrong with that?"

He glanced at her. "No. Why?"

"Honey…all the bad stuff your arm…your ear, you getting roughed up by those government guys…and what happened to Lee and Nate, none of it would have happened if they hadn't shown up."

Robbie smirked. "Tambers, they had nothing to do with me being attacked. Besides, I'm not going to just ignore the terrible stuff which is happening because it might put me in danger."

"Why not?"

He turned completely to face her, unfazed by her sudden frustration. "Because then I'd end up just like my old man."

She squirmed, unsure how she could fight the dedication in his voice. He had already told her about his "out of body experience" when she had found him crying from a nightmare involving Cathy and that _thing_ which had gone after Stan Pines.

She had remained silent, unwilling to admit belief in an afterlife, even though she'd seen ghosts at work (those ghosts had been more monsters than anything else, however). She had known that neither she nor anyone else had the power to convince him that what he'd witnessed was most likely a hallucination of some description, probably brought on by pain.

Finally, she spoke, and when she did she surprised him. "Well…you'd make a pretty crappy mortician."

He chuckled. "Thanks. Good to know that I've got a supportive girlfriend at my side."

"I'm just saying is all, how are you going to dig a grave with only one hand."

This time, he burst into laughter and she grabbed his coat to prevent him from slipping off the edge.

"Careful there, buddy, I don't want to lose you." She stated as she gazed into his eyes.

His smile, brought on by hilarity, transformed into one inspired by the serene beauty in front of him. "I don't want to lose you either." He assured her, before leaning into a kiss.

Heh, he'd told her that sunsets were more romantic than binging on romcoms.

 **[0]**

Agent Gray leaned against the frame of the public phone, his eyes focused on the car and the chance of any movement from the teenager they'd picked up. The man inside the gas station they'd stopped at had given him a strange look when he'd bought a pack of water bottles, but Jacob knew he would have received strange looks had they not waited to get outside of The Anomaly to place this call.

Lockhart had not even needed to ask who he'd be calling. There was only one answer. Command and any fellow agents of the SBE could only be contacted on a special radio wavelength. Besides, Jacob's desperation indicated who it was he'd be begging the forgiveness of.

As he stood there, listening to the dial tone and feeling sweat roll down the back of his neck, his thoughts turned to The Machine. It was the reason he was doing this. It was the breakthrough they'd been looking for.

At first, the damn piece of junk had refused to give up its secrets to even the most experienced eyes. But just last week, for no discernible reason, the machine had turned itself on. There were no batteries which they could find and The Machine could not be plugged in, so where this power source was coming from, had become yet another mystery.

But with the machine on, it had become clear what it was for. The tunnel in the center had emitted crackling energy (which they later discovered was radioactive) and items (or people) were clearly supposed to pass through it.

This had not gone well for the first rat passed through the tunnel. However, they were so close to figuring out what buttons needed to be pressed to execute the machine's primary function, that he'd felt the need to contact his wife and children. He had to tell them, he had to share the news.

Even if they wanted nothing to do with him, he had to hear their voices one last time. He had to at least try.

No voice came. He wasn't allowed to tell his wife he was so sorry for not calling sooner and that in a week he would be back in San Francisco and would never leave her side again. He didn't get to tell Maggie and Charlie that Daddy was coming home and would be there to defend them from bullies instead of some cosmic shit storm which he didn't care to understand but just desired to be free from.

He was so close. So close that he could taste it. So close that had Abner been with him, they would celebrate this moment with a drink.

He didn't get to share that fact, however, because he was informed that the number he'd called did not exist.

Hand shaking, he returned the phone to its receiver and tried to stop from fainting then and there. Birds chirped from the trees across the road. The sunset must have looked beautiful behind him. Lockhart must have been staring at him.

None of these things mattered.

He couldn't have forgotten. How could he have? He'd talked to them just three months ago. How could he have lost their number?

Maybe, maybe it was a "7" instead of an "8."

No, that got him some man he didn't know and who knew nothing about Emma Clarkson or anyone by the name of Maggy or Charlie.

"S-sorry…wrong number…"

Jacob fell to his knees and took his pills to keep from turning into an emotional wreck. There was only one explanation for this all. As unlikely as it was, he needed to check that he wasn't being toyed with before he had his own mind examined.

He would not end up like the others who were driven mad by studying The Anomaly. He would persevere. He had to.

His son needed a father, his daughter needed one too. And he needed a light at the end of the tunnel.

He climbed into the jeep and gave Gorney a grin and handed him a bottle of water. "Don't worry kid…as long as you tell us everything you know about Dipper and Mabel Pines…nothing bad will happen to you." The kid nodded, desperate to appease his captors. "Of course…if you lie to us or conceal anything…"

Lockhart finished Jacob's sentence for him. "Your family will never hear from you again."

 **[0]**

Mabel awoke from her nap at the sound of glass breaking. She sat up in bed, the covers in a tangle around her unremoved shoes.

Downstairs, her great uncle and grandfather were both still arguing. She wondered, briefly, why they didn't call great uncles granduncles instead.

She turned to Waddles. "Hey, Waddles, why don't they call great uncles granduncles."

 _"Well, Mabel, it's because calling your uncle 'grand' would be an etymological overstatement."_

In her head, he responded with the voice of Neil Degras Tyson, the same guy who hosted the science show which Dipper used to love so much. That made her giggle and lightened her mood.

After making sure Waddles was fed, she descended the staircase with her eyes on the wallpaper. Something her parents had inadvertently taught her. If you focus on a pattern while two people are arguing and ignoring your existence, then you won't feel as bad.

Well, that had worked for her. She couldn't speak for her brother, who was probably digging up spooky stuff with Wendy at the moment.

Stan and Shermy were "discussing" who would receive custody of her and Dipper, on the front porch, as if the walls between there and she would prevent her from hearing the insults which they fired at one another. That meant she could slip into the kitchen and heat up a burrito for herself without either seeing her.

Waddles followed her down the staircase and she scratched his head and allowed him to follow her out onto the back porch. Her grandfather called Stan a criminal. Stan called her grandfather a pompous ass.

She was glad that Dipper had left to find Gideon's book. And not because she had the uneasy feeling that the pain in her now bandaged hand might return at any moment. Even if he came upon the remains of Gideon (mostly stains by now, no doubt), it was best that he wasn't around for this. He and Grandpa Shermy had always been close, and he was probably feeling conflicted enough at the moment.

Staring at the same forest which had nearly killed her multiple times, Mabel had to (silently) admit that living in Florida didn't sound like such a bad idea. Of course, if their grandfather got custody of them before Dipper could figure out this deal with the devil stuff, then she would likely be doomed to serve Bill Cipher for the rest of her life (or perhaps even after) under threat of torture.

She half expected the demon to show up and mock her, maybe explain some detail of the deal which she had lost track of and which allowed him to induce this pain to her. But he didn't. It began to drizzle and she stayed out in the twilight, listening to the echoes of the woods.

Shermy swore that he would come back with a lawsuit if Stan didn't sign the "goddamn piece of paper."

Stan told him to come back with a tank. "I'm not scared of you, or any of your legal bullshit, ya' senile dolt!" He called after his younger brother.

Mabel listened to Stan stomp through the house and then slam close the door to his room.

"Are you okay?"

She jumped and found Pacifica staring at her from the bottom of the porch steps, her perfect hair unraveling under the accost of rain. She nodded.

"The pain wore off, Dipper's out there looking for the solution right now."

Pacifica gave an unconvinced nod, before clearing her throat and continuing in her interrogation. "Well, are you going to stand out here and get soaked?"

Mabel remembered that she was no longer wearing a sweater (she'd been forced to place it in the dumpster, not five feet to her left, due to the blood stains) and with the chilly weather which was incoming, pneumonia was a real threat.

"Good point." She noted. Mabel picked up Waddles and held the door open for Pacifica, who marched in with a thankful smile.

As she shivered, Mabel moved to the bathroom and removed its single towel.

"Sorry about not coming over earlier…my dad was going to kill me if I skipped practice with my tutor." Pacifica excused, as Mabel handed her the towel and watched her dry off.

"It's not a big deal. I wouldn't want to hang out with a murderer either." Mabel said in a slower, quieter voice than her normal one.

Pacifica swallowed and placed a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "You're not a murderer…do not let anyone tell you otherwise. It was self-defense…justifiable homicide at best."

Mabel responded with sarcasm, another unnatural thing which put Pacifica on edge. "Do you have a tutor for sugar coating things?"

Pacifica groaned and responded as she searched checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror. "You guys give yourselves too much credit."

Mabel raised an eyebrow but didn't need to ask who "you guys" was referring to. Pacifica answered her question as she reapplied make-up.

"You two. You and your brother. You're always blaming yourselves for the horrible stuff which happens…"

Mabel moved into the bathroom, and found that Pacifica looked twice as beautiful with her blush, mascara, and lipstick not yet applied. She mentally informed God that she didn't consider this fact to be very fair in the grand scheme of things.

"And that's taking credit?" She asked as she watched the mask being placed back over Pacifica's features.

"Yes. Most decisions are out of our hands. They are made up for us before we even get to them."

Mabel folded her arms. "Well, that's a rather good way of absolving yourself from guilt when you've acted like a sociopath."

"But you didn't act like a sociopath Mabel. You acted with emotion. Most people kill because of passion, not because it was a long planned, sadistic thing. You did what you had to at the time, to protect your family…to protect me…and the others." Pacifica turned to face her. "That's not murder, Mabel. Or if it is, then people need to expand the way they view that word."

Mabel swallowed and tried to turn away. But Pacifica pulled her into a light embrace and it occurred to Mabel, that not long ago Pacifica would be the one trying to escape pity.

"C'mon, let's go to your room and do something mindless," Pacifica suggested.

Mabel nodded.

"We can even talk about your crush."

Mabel sniffled. "I don't have any-"

"Don't lie to me, I saw you eyeing Gabe Benson during gym."

Blushing, Mabel told Pacifica to shut up and led her up to her room. Waddles briefly glanced to the corner of the room, the hair across his body prickling at the gaze of an inter-dimensional being of unmet power, before trotting after his owner and his owner's flower-scented friend.

 **[0]**

Dipper stood in front of the ivy enshrouded trailer, water collecting on his hat and rolling down his coat. Wendy moved to his side, glancing between him and the corroded door knob.

"You ready to go in?" She asked with another inspection of his face.

He nodded and strode forward and yanked on the door knob. It refused to budge.

Smirking, Wendy moved him to the side and kicked the door in. the smell of mold reached them both and they covered their mouths before moving inside in search of the book which had been used many times to almost kill Dipper.

Twenty feet away and obscured by the bushes and trees, Agent Lockhart watched them intently. He dialed his partner and raised his phone to his ear.

"Jake?"

 _"Yes?"_

"How is the interrogation going?"

 _"Well, not as good as I'd hoped…I'm going to contact Command about the past week when I'm done with him. Anything to report?"_

"They are searching for something. I bugged Subject 4's car last night so by tomorrow we should have a recording of their conversations throughout the day in there."

 _"Excellent. Well, keep up the good work."_

"Can do." Lockhart clicked his phone off and put his feet up.

Reaching beneath the seat, he retrieved Jacob's pack of cigarettes. He had a feeling that this was going to take a while.

 **[0]**

Dipper watched the raindrops roll across the windshield. The book in his lap felt like a slab of stone. Flashlight in hand, he had searched for a reference to making a pact with a demon and immediately come on one. He had expected for the answer to be something terrible, that the brand would never leave or that they would have to sacrifice a goat daily to keep Mabel from experiencing that excruciating pain.

Instead, the book had given clear instructions on how to create a paste which would relieve the pain when constantly applied. Unlike The Journal, all the information in the book had been printed and presented in a readable manner (for the most part, the book was ancient). It crept him out knowing that Gideon had probably used this exact same paste (the ingredients consisted of crushed pine needles and fish oil), but he felt like an immense burden had been lifted with the knowledge that he had a clear answer as to how to make his sister's situation better.

Wendy glanced at him. "You were really freaked out we weren't going to find it, weren't you?"

Dipper glanced towards her and faked a smile. "I was little worried but you know…we always find a way." His eyes drifted to the passenger seat window and then to the weight in his lap.

Only now did he begin to wonder who created such a dangerous book, as well as who would be stupid enough to put it in the range of a street urchin like Gideon.

"I get the feeling that you're getting kind of tired of finding a way?"

Dipper shrugged, her voice tugging him out of the chasm of unanswerable questions. "I guess I'm just tired of only barely making it. It's always a scrape…I'm always _just_ good enough…what happens when the bad guys learn from their mistakes before I do from mine?"

"Dipper, you can't torture yourself like that. You're smart on your feet. And you've got friends…lots of them…all willing to endanger themselves to keep you and your sister safe."  
Dipper swallowed and spoke in a bored tone. "I know but…they shouldn't have to be."

Wendy frowned and turned down the radio before responding. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…since Bill has actually been after me and Mabel for longer than we can actually remember…then umm…well, that means that no matter what…there will always be something or someone after the two of us."

Wendy gave him a frightened glance and noticed that he was not on the verge of crying or even frustrated. He was just exhausted.

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?"

He smirked and turned his gaze to her. She could still hear the fatigue I n his voice, despite the humor clearly present. "Too much, right?"

Wendy shook her head while keeping her eyes on the road. "As much as anyone should."

Dipper suddenly grew sad and slouched back into his previous position. They drove in silence for a little while, before he spoke up, his voice shaking.

"Wendy…I was wondering…c-could you umm…I…well, for the party which Stan is holding for the grand re-opening of the Shack…I know that you don't like to spend time around Stan but Mabel is going to be spending all her time with Candy and Paz and I was wondering…"

"You don't want to be the loser in the corner without a date?" Wendy replied as her mind turned to The Machine and how little he really knew about her.

Dipper nodded. "It won't be a romantic thing, I just-"

"It's okay buddy. I'd be happy to go with you." She parked in front of the Mystery Shack. "I'll be there around 6, okay?"

Dipper nodded, thanking her, picking up the book, thanking her again, and then unbuckling himself and running through the muddy darkness to the front porch stairs.

Wendy watched him enter the house before circling her car and exiting the lot.

Over the two weeks, she had watched Dipper adapt to high school and he was doing much better than she had been. He was a much different person than the kid she had met at the beginning of summer. He was strong and smart, way smarter than most of her girlfriends.

And god, how he trusted her. That's why she could never tell him about The Machine.

Not that it mattered. The Machine might as well have ceased to be, dematerialized by nature herself.

That's also why she could never tell him that she had come to think of him as something other than another little brother. It would no doubt break him, after all, she'd already put him through.

 **[0]**

Dipper checked on Mabel, only to find her sitting on her bed, giggling, while Pacifica braided her hair. He raised an eyebrow, secretly beaming that his sister was not going to be a silent ball of scars for the rest of her life and that Bill had not screwed her up.

"What were you ladies discussing?" He asked as he placed Gideon's Tome in eyesight of his sister, right on the desk where he used to spend hours decoding.

Pacifica tried not to stare at the book and instead sent a smile his way as she replied. "Boys. By the way, your sister has a _very_ twisted mind."

Dipper knew that she was just joking, but the choice of words caused him to tense and for his forced laughter to sound brittle.

Mabel caught his eyes, though, and he answered her unspoken question. "The book has the answers we were looking for. I'm going to make the paste which we'll need to cover your hand in."

Mabel jumped up and put a hand to his chest. She spoke with a level of seriousness which he was unaccustomed to. "No. You teach me how, and I'll make it myself."

Dipper nodded, a little surprised by her sudden seriousness. He cast a glance back to Pacifica in an attempt to understand where the mood-change had come from. She was busy inspecting Gideon's tome, her fingers twitching against Mabel's purple blankets.

 **[0]**

Jacob exited Gorney's holding area, his face pale and his fingers quivering at his side. He removed his sunglasses and glared at his own reflection in the glass one-way window outside the room.

His eyes darted to the little yellow landline which lay next to the control panel. He picked it up and dialed the only number which it reached.

 _"This had better be good, Gray."_

Command's voice was an amalgamation of human voices, synthetically layered and left to screech at any employee of the agency like a dragon to its servants. It only ever spoke to anyone through intercom and emails. Jacob had long ceased being intimidated and become frustrated with the piercing sound in his ear.

"First, you tell me where my family is."

 _"You know where your family is, Agent Gray."_

Rage came down like a tidal wave. "NO! I checked with the apartment manager and according to him, no one with the same name as my wife as ever lived in the apartment building…the same one where the two of us have lived for _ten years_. The kindergarten, the school, the librarian, Mrs. Hopkins, who my daughter befriended. All of it suddenly vanished."

 _"You must be mistaken. This matter has nothing to do with the SBE and its interests in securing bliss. You should report to Psychological evaluation."  
_ "No, you know what happened! You little shit! You've been watching me this entire time! You put a bug in the car you gave us! You put a bug in my cell! Where are my children? Where is my wife?"

 _"You are clearly overstressed, Agent Gray. You should consider taking a sabbatical."_

His hand nearly crushed the phone. It was not the blind denial to causing injustice which infuriated him so much. It was the emotionless tone and empty words. Command was just checking off a series of protocols, never once considering him as an individual but as an issue.

An error in the system. Something unreadable amongst the 1s and 0s.

"Tell me! I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL BURN THIS BUILDING TO THE GROUND IF YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO MY FAMILY!"

 _"Agent Gray, you should take some more augmentation pills. You are not thinking clearly and it is affecting your judgment."_

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR PILLS! FUCK ALL OF THIS!" He tore the phone free sent it careening into the far wall and broke into the hall.

His shoes squeaked against the white, recently refurbished linoleum. He threw his sunglasses against the wall and kicked them to the side as he stormed down the front hall. In his mind, all he could see was his children, placed in a cell. Insurance in case their daddy ever cracked.

Teeth clenched, he picked up the pace, aware that they would soon be after him. They could have no deserters, no traitors. Well, fuck them. He had given all he could, but he would not let them take his family. He would not let them get away with this.

Emergency lights and bells were already going off, with security stampeding down the hall after him. What sent panic through him, was not the possibility of being locked up and never heard from again.

It was that Command was still talking to him, except this time, broadcasting across the entire building.

 _"You should have taken those pills, Agent Gray."  
_ He grimaced and sprinted towards the parking lot, all the while screaming back at his boss of countless years. "MY NAME IS JACOB CLARKSON! DO YOU HEAR ME!? MY NAME IS JACOB CLARKSON YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

He removed his gun as all the lights shut down, except the red flashing ones, and the voice of Command began to echo throughout the facility.

 _"Honesty, Agent Gray, I really never gave a shit. No one will believe your story if you claim there is some government conspiracy surrounding a tiny town in Oregon. And other sectors of the government know enough to turn a blind eye towards the methods we implement here. You are just another sample from The Anomaly."_ Shouts. Men, screaming at him to stop or face lethal procedure.

 _"And we can't allow samples to contaminate the outside world."_

The doors had automatically locked. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit!_

Jacob removed his gun and shot the lock three times. Then he took a few steps back and charged the lock. They had given him super strength. They would have to deal with the consequences.

The doors busted open, spilling glass across the parking lot. Mark had his car and was currently staying at a motel. He needed to buy a cell phone from some nearby crappy store and call his friend's hotel room.

He smashed his walkie-talkie, before sprinting to the fence which surrounded the SBE and climbing over it before security had even made it out of the building. He was sprinting through the darkness, the full moon watching him as his shoes splashed in the streams and kicked up wet dirt.

Thunder flashed and in Mabel Pines' room, the sleeping girl's hand could have been mistakable for a nightlight for how much it glowed.

 **[0]**

Dipper poured over the pages of Gideon's tome and sipped at his OJ. Mabel sat beside him, telling him about her latest statue (which she was making on the kitchen table, not inches from him). His eyes in took every bit of information, and every few seconds, he stopped to type down on the laptop which Stan had got him for his birthday, the entry in the book. He was taking no chances.

Mabel was feeling much better if her description of Judge Kitty Meow was to be believed.

She only broke him from his obsessive detail in taking, when she mentioned the party tonight. "Do you think we're going to have to postpone the party because of Grandpa?"

Dipper placed his fingers on both of his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm not sure Mabel. I hope not."

She smirked and grew a suggestive tone with her next question. "You asked Wendy to come, didn't you?"

He choked on a piece of Life Cereal and spat it out, causing Mabel to emit a grunt of disgust. Scowling at her sniggering, he returned his eyes to Gideon's tome.

"It doesn't matter." He responded in a voice hoping to end the conversation.

"I disagree." Mabel retorted as she worked on the eyes of the sculpture.

Dipper shook his head. "I'm trying to figure out how to banish a demon, and you want to worry about my love life?"

Mabel responded with an empty but piercing voice. "What's the point in spending all this time stopping you and me from dying if you aren't spending any time being alive?"

Dipper snapped the book closed and bolted to his feet, irritable from lack of rest. The thunder and thoughts of betrayal had kept him up rather late last night.

He was going to say something, thought better of it, and then slumped back into his chair. "Mabel, I've told you this a million times before. Wendy would never consider me romantically interesting and that is a _good_ thing."

She didn't speak and he explained his logic.

"I don't need someone to kiss. I need someone who I can always trust. Someone who I am willing to do anything for. That's what's important. Friendship, not the Hollywood lovey-dovey crap which was invented to sell tickets."

Mabel watched in the corner of her eye as he typed down the latest entry of the book full of evil magic. He had not been so cynical not a day ago. She had heard him practicing in the bathroom, to ask Emma Sue to come to the party with him. What changed?

 _You._ Judge Kitty Meow explained in his warped, southern drawl.

Telling the statue to shut up, she turned to Dipper and spoke as he sulked, staring at the crisp pages with quickly closing eyes. "Dipper, maybe you should rest. You've had to deal with a lot in just the last day, and it isn't fair that your torturing yourself with this book too."

"No, Mabel…I just…I just need some time to concentrate."

She put her hands on his. "No. Dipper, please go rest. I'll write type down the next twenty pages, word for word."

He brightened. "Re-really?"

"Sure, it's the weekend in a town whose sole attraction is tourist traps, what else am I going to do?"

He shrugged sheepishly, before hugging her, and staggering off in the direction of his room. Mabel watched him go, before sitting down, in front of the book and the laptop.

"Okay, let's get this over with." She said as she cracked her knuckles and stared down at the ancient paper.

 **[0]**

Mark sat on the bed of the motel room, staring out the window. His walkie-talkie lay on the bedside table, its owner listening for the static to be interrupted by his partner's voice.

He had received notice of Jacob going AWOL hours ago and had since gone through two packs of cigarettes. The TV buzzed with a college football game and did nothing to calm his fried nerves.

He took a long drag from the cigarette and then snuffed it out on the ashtray which he had brought in from the car. Over and over again he replayed his partner's words in his mind, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he tried to discern where something had snapped within the older man.

 _Maybe a long time ago? Maybe before you ever had a chance to stop it…_

There was a knock at the door and when he turned his attention to it, he saw that someone was sliding a note in from the crack under the door. Standing, he cautiously made his way to the folded sheet of paper and inspected the words within.

 _I am unable to contact you in a different fashion because I suspect your phone to be bugged. This is Jacob. I discovered that my wife and my children have been moved and it has been made to look as though they never existed. Command refused to tell me what happened to them and then attempted to have me arrested._

 _Please report to Control that you think I'm at the lake, then come down to the parking lot._

Opening the door as quietly as possible, Lockhart glanced to either side of his room. The hall was empty.

Quickly, he got dressed and told Command that Agent Gray had contacted him with a note, to meet near the lake. Then he grabbed his sunglasses off the TV table, straightened his tie and strode into the parking lot.

There, crouched in the bushes, was his partner, soaked, dirty, and bruised. His hair resembled a mop of black strands and his eyes were unconcealed by sunglasses, exposing Mark to his rolling bloodshot eyes, already the picture of madness due to their blood red irises.

He gripped Mark's arm and spoke in haggard croaks. By the look of him, he had been crying.

"Don't worry," Mark assured him. "We're going to get your family back. And I know just who is going to help us."

 **[0]**

Dipper awoke, stretched, and headed downstairs. He was feeling much better to have received this rest, and that feeling only expanded when he came across his laptop, and Mabel, true to her word, had taken down the twenty pages she'd promised.

A note lay atop the book, informing him that she was at Brenda's place, getting music to bring for the party. Smirking, Dipper crumpled up the note and pitched it into the dust bins. The house was empty, as Stan must be off getting the food for the re-opening.

He returned the laptop to his room, scratching Waddles behind the ear, before returning to the kitchen to make himself lunch. He was halfway through cutting open the can, when he heard Shermy in the front room, calling out to see if anyone was home.

"I'm home, Grandpa Shermy…Mabel is at a friend's and Stan is getting groceries."

He could hear the frown in his grandfather's voice as he moved through the hall and towards the door which separated the shop and Stan's home. "You kids should not be left all alone here…"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "I'm almost an adult, I think I can take care of my-"

A hand clapped over his mouth and Waddles squealed as he was dragged onto the back porch. The scent of cologne was familiar, as was the little silver ring which pocked up just beneath his nostrils. He tried to stab the can opener into his captor's side, but Agent Lockhart grabbed his arm and twisted it until he let out a cry of pain and dropped the utensil onto the dusty boards of the kitchen.

Stumbling over his own feet, Dipper slammed his elbow into the stomach of Agent Gray, creating a grunt and receiving a slap across the face from Lockhart in return. The sting ran through his cheeks and made the world look twice as blurry. He tasted his own blood.

He bit his opponents' hand and jerked away, only for a gun to be pressed to the back of your head.

"You're coming with us, you little shit. If you struggle one more time, we'll blow your brain out. Command wants you and your sister intact. So either you come willingly, or she does after we paint the walls with your sister."

The screen door opened and Shermy stepped out, a confused expression on his soon to be shot face. "Dipper, what's going o-"

The tweeting of birds contradicted what happened next. As did the pouring sunshine and warm breeze. People were supposed to be shot in alleys and in the dead of night. Not on the same porch where, as a five-year-old, he had eaten ice cream pops and asked his uncle about the names of the constellations.

With just two shots, Shermy's knees buckled and he struck the floor. Red expanded across his bright and tacky shirt.

Tears came to Dipper's eyes and he let out a low whine. He tried to touch his grandfather, he tried to fall to his knees and check the vitals of the man who had taught him how to swim and who had taken him on long hikes through the marsh, and encouraged his brief obsession with the swamp ape.

But Gray grabbed him by the collar and tossed him down the porch steps. Dipper struck the gravel and sand with a grunt and tried to conceal the tears in his eyes as the two of them descended the stairs, neither grinning. His nose, his back, his cheeks, and his stomach, all of it hurt. His fingers were numb and his eyes were still locked on his grandfather's body.

Agent Gray aimed his gun at Dipper's forehead and terror ran through the teenager.

"Please…please! I'll come with you! Just please…let call an ambulance for my grandfather. You don't even need to let me have the phone. You can send the call. Please…" Dipper cupped his hands, both men towering over him, the older of which inspected him with disgust. "Just…he just wanted to protect me. He doesn't deserve to die."

The two agents shared a look, and then the younger removed a cellphone from his pocket. As he called 9-1-1, Agent Gray grabbed him by the collar and dragged him across the ground, telling him that he would lose a finger if he struggled. Dipper nodded, numbly, still watching Shermy and Agent Lockhart, even as Agent Gray gagged him and tied his hands and feet together.

 **[0]**

Stan glanced at the rearview mirror, his thoughts torn from Shermy by the giggling of Mabel, Candy, and Brenda.

"What's so funny?" He asked as they cruised along the same road he'd driven a thousand times.

His condition was that they could bring whatever music they wanted, as long as they helped him with the heavy lifting and set-up. Now that he thought about it, the deal might not have been in his favor.

Mabel gave him a sharp-eyed smile. "Brenda has got some _fantastic_ songs to share."

Stan narrowed his eyes. "It had better not be any of that death metal crap."

The owner of said music shook her head. "Actually, it's all punk."

Groaning, Stan decided that he had definitely lost his edge when it came to making deals. He considered accidentally burning the cardboard box of CD's as he pulled onto the gravel path which led off of the asphalt and to his little establishment.

He grinned at the wooden version of him which encouraged people towards his business. His grin disappeared when he saw the ambulance parked in front of his house and the two orderlies carrying a stretcher.

 **[0]**

Dipper sat in the backseat of the black jeep. Agent Lockhart had grabbed Gideon's tome, on his way out and was now reading through it with an expression more disgruntled than his regular one.

They were driving down a dirt road which he had never seen before. Agent Gray was on the phone, leering at whoever was on the other end and informing them that they had no qualms about killing Dipper to get what they wanted.

Grunting, Lockhart removed Dipper's gag and shoved the tome in his face. "What is this nonsense? A children's book?"

Dipper swallowed before responding. "It…It's a book…about dealing with demons."

Lockhart sneered. "What do you think? That I'm stupid? There's no such thing as demons. Now...what is this really about?"

Dipper shook his head and insisted, not allowing frustration to come into his voice. He had no intentions of angering either agent of the law. "But that's what it's about there's no secret code or anything it's just-"

Lockhart slapped him again and more blood sprayed from his bruised nose and split lip. Dipper had to take deep breaths to prevent from hyperventilating. He closed his mouth so that his tongue didn't taste like iron and closed his eyes. The air conditioning prickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Listen to me you little punk-" Lockhart grabbed him by the chin and held Dipper's vision with his own intense one. "-there's no such thing as demons, just like there's no angels or Gods. I've been wasted my life studying this fucking valley and I think I would know if Satan and his buddies were just screwing around with us."

Dipper nodded, his entire body tensing under the anticipation of more abuse. Lockhart tossed him back and the teens head slapped against the window. Lockhart wiped most of the blood on his fingers off on his slacks and returned his attention to the tome.

The moment that his fingers which still had Dipper's blood on them touched the page, everything went to hell.

Throughout the entire valley, a rumbling could be heard. The clouds began to grow darker and turn in the kind of circular fashion is only typically seen when they generate a hurricane with computer animation on the weather channel. A green light glowed from the sigils of Gideon's Tome and the book began to rattle in Lockhart's lap.

In the town clinic, the heart of a seventy-something cancer patient, who had just bitten the dust, began to beat. The dozens of corpses left half buried in the forest, victim to trolls whose sleep cycles had been disturbed or to nixies which had dragged them beneath the surface of the creek and only spat them back out when most of their flesh had been stripped, began to stir.

The dozens of bodies, deposited in the aptly noted "Lake Mortis" by the Norwest Family's thugs, began to claw at the chains which bound them to bricks and concrete.

A mile beneath the town of Gravity Falls and all its warped minds and misguided energies, the petrified remained of some lifeless alien lifeforms, started to become not so lifeless.

"What the hell did you do?" Lockhart demanded as he shoved the book to the floor of the car.

Dipper shook his head again. "I didn't do anything. You must have activated some kind of spell-"

Lockhart grabbed him by the collar and snarled. "There's no such thing as magi-?"

Gray screeched to a halt and Lockhart turned his attention to his partner. "Jake, what's going on?"

Gray gestured to the shambling, poorly dressed woman in the middle of the road and grabbed his gun before climbing out of the car. Lockhart followed his partner and left Dipper alone with the book, his stomach churning as the ropes dug into his wrists.

Something very, _very_ bad had just happened.

 **[0]**

Janice Valentino had been serving a second round of tea to Mrs. Horn and Mrs. Rona when her husband ran up from the basement, pale as a ghost and heading for the landline.

"Greg?" She called out.

The last time he'd been upset, Norwood had contacted sent them a friendly call.

He met her eyes and swallowed. "Do you remember Mr. Hansom?"

She nodded. "The man with the head injury."

Greg spoke, eyes on an infraction in the wall, his fingers tangling with the telephone wire in a subconscious tick. He seemed completely unaware as to their company as he held the receiver to his ear and spoke in a distant voice.

"I was half-way through the embalming and…he blinked."

The sound of footsteps, originating from the basement, broke the deathly silence.

 **[0]**

Jake grunted and moved his gun into eyesight of the staggering woman. She had brown hair which was full of leaves and disguised most of her face. She kept making these awful, high-pitched groaning sounds.

"Ma'am, I don't want to alarm you but we are from the CIA and we need you to get out of the way of our vehicle, right _now_." He stated, his fingers getting more and more trigger happy as the woman got closer.

There was something about her, something about the way she moved which was unnatural. She didn't appear to be in control of her own actions, but instead, her legs and arms moved in a manner which reminded him of marionettes at the show he'd taken Maggy to as a small child.

She just grunted, spitting a bit of blood onto the path and jerking closer to him.

"Ma'am, I'm giving you one last chance to turn around get out of the way, before we are forced to use forceful measures."

She didn't respond, although Mark did. "Uh, Jake?"

He turned to his partner and found that Mark had his gun fixed on the man who was crawling out of the ditch on the side of the road and growling like an animal. The man's eyes were green. Completely green and glowing like a flash of electricity in a dark room. His teeth were spilling out of his mouth.

A gash from which no human being could possibly survive sat in the center of his head.

The woman got within arm's distance and Jake jumped back, realizing now, that there was another man moving towards him, from behind the car. This one was missing his right arm and was mostly just rotting skin clinging to frail bones. Another man was shambling towards them from the end of the road, a large shaft of wood puncturing his chest and drawing blood.

He felt his mouth grow dry. The stench of death was unmistakable and despite having faced innumerable psychopaths and lunatics in his career without flinching, Jacob Clarkson now felt fear hanging over him. The air tasted a thousand times worse than it had whenever he and his buddies had gone looking for roadkill as kids.

He'd lain comrades to the ground before. But only now did he know what true death looked, and smelt like. His nostrils were invaded and since Nature had programmed him to loath the smell of toxic materials, this caused his thoughts to run at a skewed pace.

"I'm giving you all one last chance to leave us be!" He shouted as he put his back against Mark's and tossed his pistol to eye height.

Laughter came, not just from each mouth, but from some force much larger. At this point, he was commanding them to leave. He was begging to be left alone.

 _Too little, too late._

The woman brought her hair up the side of her face, revealing two empty sockets and a maggot ridden nose. She gave them a grin, her lips long gone, so all her yellow and black teeth were revealed.

Then, the bodies pounced. Their slow, pathetic movement was replaced by the speed of a cougar and they piled onto the two agents, biting and scratching and gnawing and hissing.

Dipper Pines watched from the car, still struggling to get his hands free as the swarm pinned Agent Gray to the windshield and tore his organs out, one at a time.

He wretched all over himself.

 **[0]**

Robbie's hand twitched towards the knife embedded in the cutting board. Tambry whistled to herself as she placed the pizza in the oven. She kissed him on the cheek and moved to the living room section of their apartment, where she flicked on the TV and turned on a music station.

He suddenly felt starved, a rat in a box, clawing to get out. He felt like all his energy had been sapped, and replaced by a perverse level of adrenaline. It was like all of a sudden becoming a superhero, but discovering that the feeling was the worst in the world. He felt stronger, faster, with an unlimited level of stamina and he was quite sure that, if he ran his fingertips along the knife in front of him, then no pain would come.

Air clogged in his throat, becoming stale and unwilling to be replaced. His thoughts were unraveling with images of running through the woods, finally being free. Finally having some power over what happened to himself and others.

The starvation only grew and his nails dug into the kitchen counter, his knuckles turning white.

Robbie watched her, the way her hips moved, the way that she breathed and tasted the air. The way that her deep blue blouse clung to her perfect, unrotten form. The saliva dried against her lips.

He wondered what she tasted like, for a brief, horrifying moment.

There was something wrong, some buzzing beneath the surface of every sluggish thought. The queen was telling her drones to defend her by piling onto the intruder until they were stripped of all their nerve endings. He was the drone. The buzzing was the queen.

And she was mad as hell.

After all, what good could she do him? What terror could she inflict if he left her alive? And there was no sense in letting all that precious food go to waste. People always complain when you don't lick your plate clean. It was killed or be killed, eat or be eaten.

There was no way out of that, it turned in each and every person day after day. For every action, a chemical reaction.

Why was this instance any different?

The fan above her perfect hair turned at unbearably slow pace and Robbie felt himself growing cold to the point of numbness. The warmth which his heart was supposed to supply, had become a distant memory, like a body committed to the soil and piled on with stones, it was out of sight and almost out of mind.

His reflection in the knife was an avatar of his mental state. Stretched out and distorted.

Everything was moving too fast for him to keep track of. The knife was in his hand. His feet were carrying him towards Tambry, his eyes locked on the back of her neck. She was breathing.

 _How dare she. How dare she breathe when so many, many, more could not._ A whisper in the back of his head proclaimed.

He tried to fight that whisper, but it sounded so natural. Like the voice had always been there. Like this train of thought had always existed, it was something they taught you in 1st grade and if you hadn't figured it out by now then there must be something wrong with you.

Tambry turned to face him, her face warm with pulsing blood. "Woah, what are you going to do with that?" She asked with an adorable smile.

 _Show her._ The whisper commanded. It would only take one slash of the blade and he would be able to bathe in her blood. To taste her and peel open her skin with his fingers.

He dropped the knife and ran. He refused to do such a horrible thing to her, or to anyone. He darted down the building stairs, her voice echoing after him, even as he ducked down the alley next to their apartment building.

 **[0]**

Dipper watched as the monsters banged their fists against the windows and windshield. They were all coated in the blood of their latest kill, giving him inviting grins as he struggled against the ropes.

 _C'mon, remember what Stan told you about escaping knots._ The logic in him insisted, while the rest of him panicked and flopped about, terrified of being a meal for the horde of bodies.

They were pounding faster and faster now, yanking at the locked doors and making cracks in the glass by smashing rocks against the glass. They weren't like ghosts, not spurred onwards by bitter hatred towards the living. No, they were a hive mind. They moved in perfect unison, all slamming their claws and rocks against the windows and doors at the same time.

Whatever he had summoned, it was directing them to take its vengeance. He doubted there was any consciousness in their decomposing brains. Just a dim hunger.

Their grins stretched too wide as the windows grew more and more fractured and Dipper was snapped out of his thoughts when one of them punctured a tire.

His wrists popped out, and Dipper, with no time to untie his legs, hobbled to the front seat. Gray had left the key in the car, believing that this encounter would be over before it had begun.

 _He thought he'd be getting back in the car. He thought he would live another day._

Dipper shook himself and turned the keys, using one hand to hit the gas pedal while the other tore at the bindings on his leg.  
The car jerked forward and Gray's remains toppled off, falling underneath the car. A swarm of hands smashed through the window and gripped for him. Dipper stared into the eyes of the monsters, as his fingers worked like lightening to unfasten his feet.

He slammed his elbow into the gas pedal and the car charged over. It knocked one of the corpses over, before roaring off the road. There was no ditch on this side of the road, just mountainside. Dipper felt his stomach clog with his lungs as the jeep went plummeting off the edge and down a hill, bringing him along for the bumpy ride.

Dipper was lurched up and down with each stone and root struck, and his stomach began to rebel. Refusing to vomit while upside down, Dipper curled up in front of the seat and covered his head. He begged for the ride from hell to stop so that he could taste fresh air and escape the echo in his head of the horde's hungry groans.

The car came to a stop, slamming into a river bed. Water gushed in from the now shattered windows, and Dipper forced himself to stand on his jelly legs. _You can throw up after you stop yourself from drowning,_ he told himself as he opened the driver side door while the car was still half-floating.

He climbed onto of the sinking jeep, eyes scanning the swamp he'd landed in. As he scoured the area for more of those… _things_ , he realized that he'd left Gideon's tome in the back seat.

If the water destroyed it, he'd have no chance of ending this spell or removing Mabel's mark. Hands on the jeep door, he jerked it open and climbed back inside.

The water was rising quick inside of the vehicle. The blood smears on the car began to pollute the algae-ridden water and Dipper could barely see as he fumbled for the book. When his hands finally tightened on it, he darted to the surface, terrified of a rotting hand clamping down on his ankle and dragging him into drowning territory.

If they killed him, he was bound to become one of them as well. He wondered what hell that might be, to have his body moved by some unimaginable force beyond his control.

When he made it to the beach, he did not throw up. He wanted to, like how a sneeze or a yawn can feel better when you really need to indulge them. But his body would not cooperate and he saw no point in forcing himself.

Gideon's tome was mostly intact, with most of the ink too old to start melting. He clutched the book to his chest, knowing that he'd have to wait for it to dry before he even considered moving the pages, lest he accidentally tear the delicate paper and make his mission to become impossible.

His bare toes curled against the sand when the groan of one of those, _things_ reached him. His eyes shot up and he made brief eye contact with the monster on the other side of the river. It did not hesitate. It leaped into the water and thrashed towards him, moving too improperly to reach him before he'd gotten to his feet, and begun sprinting down the riverside, but still mechanical enough in its movements to set him on edge.

It scrambled up and moved like a dog, bounding towards him with unnatural velocity. One glance told Dipper that he could not outrun it and that it would not tire out. He dove into the river, book high above his head as he swam with one arm across the deeper part of the mostly calm water and waded onto shore on the other side.

The ghoul was already swimming after him, and he could hear more descending the hillside, on his scent. He turned and bolted between the trees, darting through a lush forest in an attempt to lose the unstoppable creatures.

 **[0]**

"DIPPER!" Mabel called, hands cupping her mouth.

For a moment, she stood in silence, listening for a reply as rain struck the top of her hood and rolled down the back of her coat. Then she repeated her motion, clutching her powered-off flashlight in her left hand as she listened to her brother's name echo off of the trees.

No response.

Stomping the puddle of dirty water at her feet, she glared up at the overcast sky. Lightning flashed, and Mabel could swear it had been green.

Underneath her cotton bandage, her brand was beginning to itch. She resisted the urge to scratch at it until it bled again. Her boots sunk into the muck, as she grew more and more distressed. Stan and Wendy were both searching the town for Dipper, their only clue to his whereabouts being the tracks in the back.

Her grandfather had proved unable to provide any answers, as he was immediately moved to the hospital. Mabel didn't feel either like dragging her poor grandfather into what was clearly an attack of the cultists which Stan had forewarned about.

Candy and Brenda had asked if she would be alright when she told them she was going to take a different path along the mountain. The answer was clearly "no", but Mabel knew that they would never locate Dipper or the people who took him if they all stayed together in a group.

That said, it had only occurred to her now that, if Bill's cultists were really on the prowl, then they would most likely be looking for the other sibling in their prophesied set.

A twig snapped behind her.

She whipped out the gun which Stan had given her, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. The itch in her hand was gone, replaced by a wave of adrenaline.

Pacifica's hands shot up and she gave an uneasy smile. She was in a gray and red coat, with dark green pants.

Mabel damned her ability to look good, even while in a search mission. She took a little solace in the fact that Pacifica had not applied makeup before rushing to help.

"Are you alright?" The blonde asked when Mabel had lowered the gun.

Mabel shook her head as her breathing had returned to normal and the mania in her a moment ago, dissipated. _If you had forgotten to put on the safety, you might have killed her_ , the voice of logic scolded.

Pacifica took a couple steps closer. "I came as soon as I got your message…" She reached into her backpack and removed a golf club. A small smile crossed her face. "I didn't know what kind of weapons we would need…so I picked the one thing I could think of."

When Mabel gave no response, she swallowed and returned the club to its hiding place. Then she placed her hands in the pockets of her tight fitting jeans and sauntered closer. "Mabel…you just said that Dipper was missing in your text…what happened?"

Mabel shook her head, eyes closed. "I was…I was with Stan and the others and…and we got home and there was an ambulance for my grandfather…and there was blood everywhere and the house had been broken into…now Dipper's gone…and it's all my fault."

Pacifica shook her head and came closer, trying to touch Mabel's shoulder. "No, Mabel, this could never be-"

Mabel shied from her touch and kept her eyes on the dirt. "Nuh-uh. If I hadn't told Dipper to sleep, if I hadn't left him all alone at The Shack…Pacifica, what was I thinking? Leaving him alone when I know that those people already took our parents and are after us?" She continued to stare at the same spot of ground as her voice cracked. "I mean, what's wrong with me? What kind of dumbass does that?"

Pacifica wrapped her arms around Mabel, and silenced the taller girl before speaking simply, and invigoratingly. "We'll find him, Mabel. I promise."

Another twig snapped. The sound was immediately followed by a hungry growl. The same kind which a tiger makes.

Both teenagers looked up, and found, that on the rocky ledge ten feet above, a man with half of his face missing, was teetering, grinning down at them with red tainted teeth. He gurgled and Pacifica licked her lips before speaking, backing away and not daring to blink.

"Mabel?" She called as if the brunette might have disappeared.  
"Yes?"

Pacifica tensed, the athlete at the starting line. "I think we should run now."

Mabel only gave a nod, before the ghoul leaped down from his perch and struck the mud with a SPLAT!

By the time it had raised its face to the wind, both girls were sprinting along the forest trail. It fell to all fours and galloped after them.

 **[0]**

Mark clawed his way out of the trench which the ghouls had forced him into. He was covered in body parts, various fluids, most belonging to either his partner or his attackers.

 _Most._

Spitting out a tooth, Mark fell to his knees and gripped the dry grass which was quickly becoming damp. As water pooled in his normally emotionless eyes he remembered how much he'd bawled in the emergency room, after his brother had experienced an allergic reaction to his most recent adventure in the land of narcotics.

He swallowed. His brother had been a despicable, lazy, hateful, freak. Jake had been none of these things, the polar opposite in fact.

 _You can mourn later, if you don't stop these things, then they are going to destroy the town._

He swallowed. He knew it to be true, no matter how much it stung. While the ghouls actually fell apart very easily, due to how weak their bones and muscles were, they had an unmatched tenacity, and judging from the echoing growls and distant screams, the tide of undead didn't show any signs of stopping.

In some place beyond his imagination, a demon was laughing at him. You thought that this place made sense? You thought there was an explanation to this all, didn't you? You just assumed you could break the rules and threaten a teenager without repercussions, didn't you?

Mark had to admit, that if the walking corpses was a motion of karma, then the universe was more even more unfair than he'd already accepted it being.

He removed his walkie talkie, taking a moment to allow the pain to roll over his muscles, before speaking. "Command?"  
 _"Agent Lockhart, have you located Agent Gray?"_

"Yes. He's dead."

Not a beat was skipped. _"Well, that's a shame."_

Mark was too sapped to hate the voice on the other end for its mechanical response. "We have a B-Class situation, Command."

 **[0]**

Robbie crouched in the trash, his body shaking. He'd already torn off his hearing aid and tossed it against the brick wall across from him. He was not in the same alley next to his apartment. He didn't remember what alley he was in, though.

Somehow, he had stumbled through the streets, the hunger and hatred growing with every passing second. He'd checked his arm.

The patch of gray skin had not grown, but it had deepened in color. The skin in that spot was rough, and not unlike an elephant's hide. His eyes had begun to grow warm, making vision painful.

Everything was beginning to glow green anyway, so he wouldn't have had much to see.

"Son, are you alright?"

He opened his eyes and found Crazy Old Man McGucket checking his vitals. With his hearing aid gone, everything sounded fuzzy except the insistences of The Queen.

"Let's get you inside, hmm?" McGucket asked, his friendly voice becoming warm hum.

Robbie shook his head. He knew that this would not end well, the old man on the phone with someone (probably Stan) trying to figure out what to do with him and this time, Robbie would be unable to hold back the urges. He would strangle the poor man to death.

But he did not have the strength within himself to resist being pulled to the elevator of the building and laid down on McGucket's couch. The old man fed him a little water and then moved towards what Robbie expected was his kitchen.

He was speaking, but Robbie couldn't focus on the words. When McGucket did not return, he shifted back and forth in an attempt to get The fan which circled above was strangely rhythmic and it calmed him down a touch.

His breathing improving by the second and his head feeling less foggy, he realized that McGucket had draped a blanket over him. He sat up and discovered that his vision had almost returned to normal. As his hands gripped the seat cushion to get rid of the numbness, his eyes inspected the apartment.

It was much larger than his own, with its own fireplace and two armchairs positioned next to the fire. Most of the floor was shrouded in red-gray, blue-white, and green-blue carpets, and the apartment appeared to have no doors aside from the one inside. Instead, curtains hung in each doorway, most of them scarlet.

The walls were painted cream colored, and the place might have looked pleasant, had there been any items of significance hanging on the walls or retired to the mantel. Instead, the house looked like a set for a real one, void of photos of family or friends.

Well, not void.

There was one photo, of McGucket when he was much younger, shaking hands with a much younger Stan Pines and grinning for the camera.

"Yes. Yes. I understand perfectly."

Robbie's throat became dry when he heard the old man's voice. Something about it put him on edge, some uncertainty in the old man's voice designated his next action to be morally ambiguous.

When he'd been dating Wendy, Stan had always seemed like a slob and a miser. Being the overprotective idiot which he was, he'd also seen the old man as perverted, as Wendy barely did the job Stan paid her for and he could think of no other reason why he would hire her. But while Stan had been disgusting, everything Robbie had considered wrong with the world and then some, McGucket had just been kind of sad.

Whenever he'd stop by to give Wendy her lunch or just to hang out, he'd see the old man, sweeping in the corner, with the same expression as a lost child. He never looked content, and he rarely appeared to really understand what was going on around him.

His sympathy for the man had now turned to fear. If he was easily manipulated by Stan, then who was to say that The Queen wouldn't take control of McGucket's mind and use get Robbie when he wasn't looking.

He couldn't have been particularly strong given his age and body structure, but Robbie was sure that he kept a gun around the house. Most people in this town did.

"What's your name again, son?"

Robbie jumped when he found his host standing over him, hands clasped against the back of the sofa. He had moved like a breeze. His vision was not quite focused on Robbie, but instead, in the general direction of Robbie.

McGucket had also put on some black, ovular spectacles, which concealed his eyes very well. In his brown suit and yell tie, he certainly looked younger. His voice was even different, now with a semblance of cheerful expectation vs the sorrowful confusion of earlier.

"What…what did you say?" Robbie asked, McGucket's question having slipped his mind due to the change in demeanor.

McGucket gave a forgiving smile as he responded. "I asked what your name is."

Robbie felt thrown back to when he was six years old and in a game of tag with Thompson. The two had silently paused their game on hearing the muttering sobs coming from the abandoned computer repair shop.

Thompson had taken the opportunity to run, while his chaser had moved to the boarded up door and peeked inside. The man within was broken. He could tell that, even from a tender age.

The way he hunched, the look in his eye. The glee behind his blubbering. Not a man, a vessel for something much stronger.

A cocoon for a monster to climb out of.

His father had immediately grabbed him by the collar and screamed at him. Don't mess around near places like this; you could hurt yourself. Don't talk to strangers; they might talk back.

Robbie had insisted that he hadn't talked to the man and asked his father why the old man was crying.

 _"That's Old Man McGucket, he always cries."_ His father had insisted, as if this were just another bit of life and death, as natural and required as the movement of the tides.

When Robbie asked why he always cried, his father's answer had come as soon as the words could leave his son's mouth.

 _"He doesn't have anybody."_

Robbie found it particularly poignant that everyone knew who McGucket was, but the poor sap had no idea who anyone else was, and probably didn't know who he himself was. "Robert. My name is Robert, but everyone called me Robbie."

McGucket shook his hand and offered Robbie the opportunity to explain what had happened to him, as he moved to the kitchen and put on a kettle.

Robbie agreed, despite the fact that warmth was returning to his eyes and his hand was growing numb again. The hunger was twice as painful as last time, and he highly doubted he'd be able to hold it back this time around.

 **[0]**

Dipper scrambled out of the forest, collapsing at the exact same place where he had on being transported decades into the future and coming across a skeletal Gravity Falls. This time, he didn't lie on the ground.

He sprung to his feet and ran into the town center. People could already tell that something was wrong, judging from how they ogled the sky and crowded around the sheriff.

Dipper didn't hesitate. "EVERYONE NEEDS TO GET INSIDE! EVERYONE NEEDS TO GET INSIDE, _RIGHT NOW!"_

They all stared at him, at first like he was crazy. Then, like he might be correct. They all knew that impossible things happened around their town, they had known he'd be the one to point it out from the moment he'd started asking about the Fair Mansion.

"PLEASE!" He begged, his voice hoarse and his stomach acting up again. The storm was picking up again, and it brought the stench of decay into the town on its twenty miles per hour winds. "NOW! YOU NEED TO GET INSIDE!"

Sherriff Durland sighed and marched over to him. "Now, son, what is it that has you so worked up-?"

Before Dipper could shove his hand off, people began screaming. Dipper turned and found that a swarm of the ghouls had followed him. They toppled over one another, ants trampling their own folk in an attempt to hit the battlefield.

Their eyes, there was something mesmerizing behind their eyes…

Sherriff Durland grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to the ground. He yanked out his gun and pulled his communicator to his mouth.

"HENRY! I NEED YOU TO CONTACT STATE TROOPERS! I REPEAT! WE HAVE A MASSIVE PROBLEM ON ELM STREET!" He fired once. The bullet sent most of a skull to the ground. The body soldiered on.

 _Heh, shot to the head_. Dipper thought. His dark humor quickly turned to grim realization. _There really is nothing which can stop these things aside from dismembering them._

Another shot. And another.

Dipper tried to get the officer to move, telling him that there was no use in trying to fight. But more were coming from the direction of the lake, these coated in algae and pond scum.

Dipper wondered how many had been lured to their deaths by the promises of Gn'aak, as he sprinted down the street, towards The Shack. He skid to a halt when Stan's car jerked to a halt in front of him, and Wendy popped her head out.

"Dipper?!" She asked, incredulous.

The teen glanced at the horde of shambling monstrosities behind him, before running towards her. "No time to talk! There's a bunch of zombies coming this way!"

He slid into the backseat, receiving a glare from Stan. "Jesus, kid, we thought we'd never see you again! What the hell happened?"

Dipper was going to show his exasperation, but Wendy spoke for him. "Uh, Stan, he's right."

Stan took one glance at the now charging army of cadavers and gripped the steering wheel. He made an illegal U-turn and reached to his boot. He removed a pistol and threw it to Dipper, who fumbled with it.

"Alright, kid, even I don't have enough bullets for all of those things," Stan admitted as he raced towards home. "So what's the plan?"

Dipper flipped open Gideon's Tome as he responded. "I'm working on it, I just need time, I just need-"

Stan jerked to a halt and Dipper's head struck the back of Wendy's chair. He looked up and discovered that about a hundred ghouls had formed a wall between them and the road.

They writhed, their rotting bodies rubbing up against one another as they moved forward, inch by inch. Their enthusiasm had been replaced by a grim determination.

Wendy spoke as she loaded a shotgun. "Why don't you just run through them? Most of them look about ready to fall apart!"

Green lightning flashed.

Stan gave a sarcastic grin as he responded. "Yeah, and while I'm at it, why don't I just run us into a building and wait for us to catch on fire?"

Wendy glared at him and he elaborated. "Listen, kid, this isn't some stupid movie or video game! Running over a single crouching person runs the risk of flipping the car. Those things…you see how many of them? Imagine that risk times a million!"

Wendy rolled down the window and stuck the shotgun out the window. "Have any better ideas?"

Stan glanced between the gradually closing in mass in front of them, and the smaller, rapidly gaining one behind them.

"Not going to lie Dipper," He said as he slipped on a couple of brass braces. "Now would be a fantastic time for you to come up with one of those plans of yours."

 **[0]**

Pacifica and Mabel had not intended to be chased into a ravine. But as more and more of the ghouls came barreling down the side of the mountain, they were given fewer and fewer options. Now the creatures were right behind them, and scrambling up above, dislodging bits of stone and sending them cracking against the walls of the ravine.

Mabel shot one, and, as she had predicted, the force had caused it to spiral off the edge of the ravine and slam into its brethren.

They kept going.

The rain was pouring down now, mud sliding down the edges of the ravine and collecting around their ankles. Pacifica grabbed her hand and squeezed it as they traipsed through the piling quicksand. Rocks jutted out up ahead, theoretical hand and footholds for mounting the ravine and making it above.

If they could just make it up the rocks, then the undead creature would be unlikely to keep up with them. Pacifica broke their linked hands and leaped onto the rocks, climbing with the skill and elegance of someone who'd been trained their whole life to prepare for a moment similar in nature to this one.

She offered her hand as Mabel climbed, and Mabel reached out, eyes locked with the blonde. They were almost out, almost-

A hand grabbed Pacifica's hair, and the rotting form of Lee Gunderson grinned down at Mabel as its victim squirmed under the pain of its knee against her back ad its claws against her scalp.

Mabel aimed her gun and cracked open the bone of the former frat boy's arm. It stood, bringing Pacifica up with it and closing an arm around her neck. Mabel aimed for the same spot, intent on freeing her friend.

A hand, as cold as death, dug its fingernails into the hood of her raincoat and she was pulled into the tide of monsters. She kicked the monster back, but its laws still drew blood from the back of her neck.

Candy's hands swooped down and grabbed her shoulder, and with Pacifica's help, the two lifted Mabel halfway up the rocks. She climbed the last bit, sending debris raining on the toppling mass of ghouls, before scooting away from the ravine, her wheezing loud as she shook with the knowledge that she'd been moments away from being eaten.

Brenda finished off the remains of Lee and kicked him back into the crowd. Pacifica forced Mabel to her feet, and, when realizing that her ankle had twisted climbing the rocks, Pacifica placed Mabel's left arm over her shoulders and supported her as they weaved between the trees.

More and more of the undead appeared as they moved from tree to tree, pinning them down from all sides. They were losing options and fast. One tore up Candy's sleeve, and the girl tripped on a root and fell. Brenda picked her up and continued sprinting forward, only stopping when she saw an abandoned shack.

"GUYS! C'MON! SAFETY!" She explained with wild gestures towards the house.

Pacifica shook her head. "ARE YOU CRAZY!? THAT THING IS READY TO FALL OVER!"

Lightning flashed. The rain picked up.

"IT'S OUR BEST BET!" Brenda returned, giving Pacifica a vehement growl. Candy looked lost in her arms and briefly made eye contact with Mabel.

The brunette's hand was beginning to hurt again, this time, sounding dull and rhythmic. She looked up from between her arguing friends, and saw the silhouettes in the distance, highlighted by another flash of lightning.

Glancing between Brenda and Pacifica, she removed her arm from Pacifica's shoulder and limped into the building. The door seemed fairly sturdy. There were two windows inside the one-room house, but there was plenty to block the entrances with. There was a loft too, meaning that, if they were trapped inside for a while, they would at least have relative room inside the twenty by twenty room.

Brenda followed her inside, and Pacifica sprinted in past her, slamming the door the moment they were all inside. Mabel gave her a hopeful smile but the blonde just shook her head and continued to disassemble the bed (which lacked blanket, cot, or pillows) and use the legs and frame to block the doorway.

Brenda tore up a couple boards from the creaking floor and used the old nails to nail the boards over the left side window. She hammered them in with the butt of her sawed-off shotgun. As she did so, the right side window burst with pawing hands.

Candy removed the sawed-off shotgun from her girlfriend's hands and stalked over to the window without a second thought. She fired out of it, an intense look crossing her face as the monsters were forced back for a moment.

Mabel came to her side and fired at their legs, hoping to maim them enough that their inevitable attempts would be futile. Pacifica pushed the two to the side and she placed new boards over the window, before gesturing for Brenda to join her at her side and nail them in.

As soon as both windows were relatively secure, dozens of hands burst through the ceiling of the shack and fists hammered against the walls. Brenda fell to the floor, and clutched Candy, whispering to her shaking partner that everything would be fine, even as something began to shuffle down the chimney, barking, and scrabbling.

Pacifica turned to Mabel and tried not to let her eyes get wet. She crouched next to the bleeding girl, who was holding her hand against her chest.

"Mabel…there's something…I need to tell you…" The blond admitted.

Mabel gave a small smile. "It's alright Paz…I know…"

Pacifica's breath hitched at this revelation and Mabel stood up, now knowing exactly what Bill had wanted her to do all this time.

 **[0]**

Wendy fired again, watching the body parts fly across the road with the introduction of buckshot. Dipper frantically flipped pages, attempting to discover the correct incantation.

Stan stood guard, swinging his fists at the slow moving horde while Wendy fired at those which circled them like sharks. Their moans were unbearable to the ear and the stench of so many in such a small area was just as intolerable. Wendy's hands shook as she saw people she'd grown up with, people she'd gone to church with, growling at her from all sides.

She'd seen what they'd done to Sherriff Durland and she was quite sure she'd never be able to _unsee_ it.

Dipper popped open his side door and stepped out, eyes darting around the circle of bodies. He raised the book and repeated the words as best as he could. "I-iam non reversurum in terra obliviónis desiderantur!"

Nothing happened and he swallowed, glaring down at the paper. _Why isn't it working?_

A ghoul leaped at Stan, and its brethren chimed in, three attacking him at once.

"STAN!" He called out, rushing forward to help his great uncle.

Stan waved him aside and buried a fist in the chest of his main attacker. "Say the spell kid, I'm fine just...do whatever you have to do to get rid of these things."

Wendy tossed the shotgun to Dipper and removed her ax, helping Stan fight them off. Dipper turned his attention back to the Latin incantation and closed his eyes, before reading them off, verbatim.

"Iam non reversurum in terra obliviónis desiderantur! Iam non reversurum in terra obliviónis desiderantur!"

They marched forward, and one bit Stan's shoulder. Another grabbed Wendy's hair, and slashed a claw across her cheek, drawing blood.

At first, panic seized him. But understanding struck as he watched the blood pool on Wendy's thrashing face. Dipper bent to his knees, grabbing Wendy's ax. Instead of swinging at one of their attackers, however, he drew his hand across the blade.

 **[0]**

The monsters were at their throats. Pouring in from every entryway. Mabel gripped Pacifica's face, still offering the same calm smile. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the blonde's.

Then she stood and raised her branded hand. She unraveled the bandage and grinned. "Be gone." Was all that she said, before a wave of white light exploded outwards and seared every ghoul, transforming them into dust.

Mabel's smile widened as the brand ceased its itching.

 **[0]**

Dipper smeared his blood across the page before repeating the incantation in the last chance he would receive. "IAM NON REVERSURUM IN TERRA OBLIVIÓNIS DESIDERANTUR!"

The green lightning flashed one last time and the light behind each and every skull, disappeared. The bodies all toppled to the ground. Robbie Valentino dropped the candlestick which he was about to bash Fiddleford McGucket's head open with. Then he fled the house, tearing out his cell phone and dialing his panicked girlfriend.

Dipper got his wish and threw up a second time, this time, all over his shoes.

 **[0]**

"Are you alright?"

Dipper looked up from dressing the wound on Wendy's cheek.

They were in his room, the only lighting given being the lamp on the table next to them. She sat on the fold out bed, with Dipper on his knees, the first aid next to his foot.

He gave a nod and asked for her not to move. It hurt to do so, but she didn't care.

"Is your grandfather alright?"

He was so distant, so silent since visiting the hospital, that it was hard to tell if everything was okay and he was just processing things, or if he had become so desensitized to death, that crying was no longer in the same ballpark.

"He's fine. He's leaving by the end of the week. Me and Mabel told him we'd prefer to stay here."

Wendy frowned. "Why?"

Dipper lowered his face and stared at something deep inside her. "Because all of our friends live here."

He returned his gaze to her scrape and her eyes focused on the bandage across his lip and nose. "Why are you so quiet?" She finally asked, unable to stand only the sound of the busted fan in the corner and the "THUNK! THUNK!" of the bent blade striking the metal cage.

"I fucked up. That's all."

She sighed and he repeated himself, asking her politely not to move. She waited until he'd turned towards the first aid kit to grab something. "Dipper, what happened is not your fault."

"It was my blood which activated the book, Wendy. I was the one who left the book out where they could see it." He informed her as he dribbled iodine over the wound.  
her lips twisted in a pout. "Yeah, but those idiots were the ones fucking around with the book. They deserve to hang for it."

She noticed the way that Dipper swallowed and spoke with realization coming into her voice. "The agents…they died…didn't they?"

"Yes."

Dipper removed some ointments from the first aid kit and squirted it over her scratches, before reaching for the bandage. She stopped him, and raised her left hand up, trailing her fingers across his cheek. He flinched, the bruises there sparking up in pain.

"Dipper…look at what they did to you…remember what they wanted to do to Mabel? Those guys got what was coming to them, they pushed you…"

He grasped her hand with his own. It had a bandage over it from the rope burns which he had received from those two asshole's knot work. "But maybe if I hadn't provoked them…"

"NO! Dipper, don't you ever say that!" Wendy yelled.

His face filled with not confusion but a little fear at her reaction. She sighed, and then spoke up. "Dipper…if someone hurts you…then it is not your fault. Never let anyone blame you for the pain which they inflict on you. Understand?"

He nodded, clearly missing the subtext from the look on his face. Wendy put her hands on her forehead and hoped that he would remember this conversation if a girlfriend ever swatted him on the arm or tossed something at him.

The thought caused her throat to become dry and painful.

Dipper finished with the bandage. He fell to his knees and took her hands in his own, meeting her eyes with his own warm brown orbs as he spoke in a voice she was unaware he had access to. "I promise Wendy; I promise that I understand."

She couldn't help herself any longer. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

It was five seconds, maybe ten before she pulled away and searched his face for a reaction. He just stared ahead. Then slowly, like watching life being born in the primordial soup, she watched emotion grow.

It was sadness.

"Wendy…please don't tell me that you just did that because you thought it would make me happier."

She answered his question with another kiss.

"Alright…but…but wha-wha-?"

She placed a finger against his lips. "Dipper, could we please save the questions for later?"

"But-"  
"You want to kiss me, don't you?"

"Of course!"

"And you want to have sex with me, don't you?"

"Ye-ye-yes…"

"So can we please do one of those two things at least until 8 tomorrow?"

Dipper licked his lips. Then he closed the first aid, before locking the door to his room and returning to her side.

"O-okay." He answered, causing her to choke with laughter.

 **[0]**

Mabel stood on the porch, waving farewell to Candy and Brenda. Both were understandably shaken, and she could tell that, after Dipper explained what had caused the ghouls to come into being, Brenda was exceedingly pissed at him, although it had been the agents who were holding Gideon's tome at the time.

Stan had decided that he would hold onto the book so that it did not get into the wrong hands or otherwise cause madness to surface anytime soon. He also instated a policy that Mabel and Dipper were not to leave the Shack, without accompaniment or surveillance of him or Wendy.

Mabel somehow doubted this would help very much, as she watched the helicopters blaze across the dusk. Lockhart's people had set fire to some part of the forest and had quarantined half of the town.

She had seen him, Lockhart, moving between the people in hazmat suits and glaring at the body parts which stained the road. She considered walking up to him and apologizing for the loss of his partner, before threatening for him to stay away from her little brother (or else). But she had thought better of it.

She and Dipper needed to make sure that their grandfather had not died while alone in the hospital. Shermy was actually quite alive, and quite awake. The knowledge that Stan had saved Dipper from the agents, was enough that their grandfather had dropped the lawsuit (although, he would be giving them "frequent check-ups").

Of course, a file was claimed for kidnapping and attempted murder. But even after two days, it was pretty clear that Shermy was not going to get to the "bottom of the ordeal." Lockhart had dropped off the face of the map (as tends to happen to people with no real name) and the people he worked for…well, according to the CIA and FBI, they didn't exist. Whatever remained of Gray, was just as impossible to locate.

She clenched her hand. The brand was beginning to have a warm fuzzy feeling like it had weeks before it began to itch. It was clear now, what Bill had wanted this entire time from her.

He desired her to be indebted. To be forced to use whatever powers he had given to her (she had absolutely no idea the limits or how to activate them, the searing light had come from instinct), so that she had to do more "chores" from him.

The ointment which Dipper had made, however, caused that warmth to go away, just like it relieved itching and pain. Kind of a floppy plan for a demon, she thought.

Although, the knowledge he had not yet traded in the favor he'd gotten for allowing her the light which had saved her and the other's lives sent chills down her spine.

"Mabel? Can we talk?"

She looked up from her hand and found Pacifica standing at the bottom of the steps. Mabel nodded and began descending the stairs.

Pacifica jumped into her piled thoughts. "Listen, I'm sorry that I've been avoiding you for the past few days, it's just that…it really freaked me out when you-"

Mabel reached the last step and leaned forward, pressing her own face against Pacifica's. The blond tensed and then relaxed. Her tongue began moving, and her fingers crept along Mabel's back.

Mabel pulled away. "What were you saying?"

"Shut up," Pacifica commanded in a breathy voice which had very little command in it, before pulling Mabel into another, this time even more passionate kiss.

Neither was aware that, sitting beneath two huge branches, parked on a dirt trail, Bergmann watched their movements with binoculars.

 **[0]**

"What do you know?"

Manda Ramirez raised her face from the floor and grinned at her newest visitor. Her smile twitched. "Well…well…well…look who came _crawling_ back."

McGucket sighed. "Didn't your parents ever teach you to respect your elders?"

Manda bit her lip and shook her head coyly. Then she leaned forward and bit the air before she spoke. "They did warn me to beware of strange men with nasty plans, though."

McGucket sat down across from her and gave a short smile. "It's a good thing I don't have any nasty plans then, isn't it?"

 **[0]**

 **Code** : _LtoloxTSDIMRUOYNIROTIARTAEVAHUOYltolox!_

* * *

 **Q &A + feedback**

 **Situation711:**

 _Chapter 17, Aug 21_

 _I'm so glad you're still writing this, I love it and I am so happy to have read such a well-written story._

 ** _Thank you so much! It really means a lot to me to receive that kind of feedback._**

 **Guess:**

 _Chapter 17, Aug 15_

 _Is there any chance for Mabill (MabelxBill) pairing?_

 ** _Not sure why you would_** **want** ** _that…but yeah…something like that. J_**

 **Coldblue:**

 _Good chapter and thanks for updating!_

 _Legacy:_

 _Love how you re-did Quinten Trembly character as this frontiers-men, law-men, possibly Southern Rebel, war-hardened, and possibly a senator. Love his narration. Quentin hated the Norwood Family, was religious but not a fanatic, and had his own sins. I love how the Pines Family is a part of Gravity Falls history. Ha! Serenity Falls back then, but Gravity or Depravity Falls now._

 _Like a play on words with "Tremors" Movie series when it was called Rejections in Pioneer days to Perfection. The Multi-Bear came into play, but I don't know if Multi-Bear some form of Supernatural/Spirit animal of Gravity Falls region or an Alien experiment of playing with Bear DNA with something crossed between an Octopus and a Potato. We also know that Mable is a family name that reappears, so that cool. Valentino and possible Corduroy Family are loosely connected with the Pines Family having possible meant generations ago if Tom is Valentino and Winston is possible related to the Corduroys. Quentin died a hero with some regrets in his heart of his past mistakes with Norwood Family._

 _Mr. Sweetdreams/Mable Diaries:_

 _Man, it had to be Bill Cipher. Sort of Bill Cipher testing Mable and Dipper. Mable is Bill Cipher go to human/girl. It interesting how Mable Pines is more damaged than we realize. I thought Dipper Pines was fucked up a little, but Mable Pines holds back a lot of traumatic memories she just wants to forget. I don't know if she still remembers Mr. Sweetdreams, but I bet Mable prefers not to think about it._

 ** _She's still his playmate after all this time ("You haven't altered in the least" and all that)._**

 _Wendy Corduroy:_

 _It interesting to read her again. I have to admit I love how a part of Mable and Dipper lives she has become. I really wish she actually did become a Pines by having Dipper's baby or being married then Divorced. Wendy is not that in this chapter._

 _Wendy is a guardian of Dipper and Mable. Wendy so sad that Mable and Dipper had to go through that and she blamed Lee and Stanford Pines for allowing that to happen to them. It good there some good memories with their Gruncles, but Wendy will never forgive or let them. Fiddleford McGucket has been apart the Pines Family along time. Wendy knows Bill Cipher had something to do with Mable Demonic Possession because SnowFlake was written at the END of Mable Pines Dairies. Crazy shit is happening._

 _Questions_

 _1) What the next big story you plan to do after "Depravity Falls"? Is this story the only big story you ever plan on doing or are there more?_

 ** _While I doubt that I will be saying goodbye to the fanfic community, I think this will be farewell to Gravity Falls and I doubt I will attempt something on this scale again. After this, I really want to work on making original stories._**

 _2) Are we ever going to find out more about the Norwood Family around the 30th of August?_

 ** _Nathaniel's sins will be revealed in due time. Not yet, though. We've got a bucketload of other sins to deal with._**

 _3) What should we expect with Alien Technology/Ship: Telepathy that could cause a Coma or blow someone Head up, water base technology or what?_

 ** _SEIKS EHT HCTAW!_**

 _Suggestions_

 _1) Personally, I'm hoping you do a "Rick and Morty" Fan Fiction that sort of similar to "Depravity Falls", but different. Sort of like Horror and Adventure. Maybe read throw Rick and Morty perspectives, then a bit of Summer and Beth. Possible Jerry. It would be interesting that "Rick and Morty" were different. Like Beth and Jerry Smith get divorced or both of them die and have Morty and Summer end up with their Grandpa Rick. Meeting and dealing with all the fucked up adventures along with self-realizations/discoveries about themselves and the universe. Just an idea._

 _If you have other ideas let us know. I have to admit that I probably might not like the next big story if you ever do it again or not after "Depravity Falls"._

 ** _That's fine. I don't expect half of the people who enjoy this to look at my other work._**

 ** _For you, I will give Rick and Morty another try. ;)_**

 ** _But I make no promises as to writing about it._**

 _2) God, I hope so. I like Pacifica, but I want to find out what going on with her family. How long has the Norwood family known about the Supernatural? How long has the Norwood Family been powerful or did they just gain their Power in the Americas? It rather interesting to read the extensive history and certain family members mention if "Gravity Falls."_

 ** _Episode Four should hold most of the answers which you are seeking. I don't mean to tease, I've just got a lot of plot threads which need tying._**

 _3) I don't want to Aliens or the Technology to be Human or Human looking. I sort would like it to be based on Telepathy or Aquatic Aliens. I go with Aquatic Aliens of Unidentified Submarine Object. Earth 70 percent or MORE of Water. Could you sort of give the Aliens a reason to come to Earth? I just hope that the Alien Technology is very Alien, but also something for Pines/Heroes to use in the future._

 ** _The alien technology will be_** **very** ** _outlandish and the aliens themselves will make Grays look downright unimaginative._**

 _Short Chapter:_

 _I've got mixed feelings, but I'm getting where you are coming from. That this is sort of an idea of "Gravity Falls" with short episodes with some of the characters which sounded great. I sort of hope we read more about the Antagonist or Characters perspectives we don't read. It would be interesting to read Wendy, Robbie, Tambry, Pacifica, Candy, Brenda, or other characters that will have relevance to this story. Even Blendin Blandin or Time Traveler would be great to read with cryptic messages and ominous warnings of possible future events of what could, couldn't, or has happened._

 ** _I considered writing more shorts, but I thought it best to get on with it. There are probably two still to come, but I might just decide to incorporate them into episodes._**

 _Agent Lockhart:_

 _Interesting. Sort of reading how Lockhart actually going to into this unofficial government agency that seems. We are reading a very human component of a character that in "Depravity Falls" was already sort of moral gray and who trying to keep stable, even though the agents in this agency become unstable themselves. We got a hint where Stan Pines started to be tracking in the Agency. Agent Black is interesting and Agent Gray used to be his partner. It's possible that the side effects of Augmentation and exposed, to the Supernatural are causing a sense of premonition. Agent Black hinted that a teenager or Sixteen-year-old would hold the fate of the world in his/her hands. Very scary. Also, stay with the unraveling or unstable process of Agent Grey. So far Agent Lockhart is this stable observer who trying to understand the situation and do his job, but only for so long with the job he has._

 ** _You can only push someone so far…well, Lockhart could certainly require a trip to Psychological Evaluation._**


	19. S2, E2: Golden Years

**_IMPORTANT: Just so you know, things are going to come in a different order than in the show. Promises which I made in previous chapters will be fulfilled in a different order than how I promised._**

 ** _I made this episode because there wasn't really a point in trying to hide this bit, and we need a calm before the storm._**

* * *

 **Episode 2: Golden Years**

 _"You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories." –Stanislaw Jerzy Lec_

 _"Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events."_ _–_ _Adrienne Rich_

* * *

"Stan?" Dipper called from the kitchen.

The old man turned his eyes from the broom at his feet, and the boy exited the kitchen with a pensive expression.

"Yeah?" Stan replied as he returned to work.

There was a lot to clean up, he didn't have time for chit-chat. Streamers from the grand re-opening lay in clumps across the carpet of the living room (which had functioned as a temporary food bar). The re-opening had actually received more attention than he'd expected.

Dipper had been suspiciously absent during the party, most likely in his room, smooching Wendy and believing that he could pull the wool over his uncle's eyes.

"I…I wanted to make a deal with you," Dipper admitted, eyes roaming the room and taking in the mess.

The hair on the back of Stan's neck prickled at the D-word. "What kind of deal?" Stan replied, afraid that he knew where this was going.

"I'll clean everything up, but you have to tell me…about your brother…"

"What? Sher-?"

"No." The teen's hands clenched at his sides. "Your twin."

Stan let out deep exhale, before placing a hand on his head and slumping down in his armchair. He had just received a glacier-size migraine.

Dipper continued, trying to explain himself, despite really not needing to. "We-Wendy found all these photos of you and him when she visited your old house-"

Stan tried not to become too ticked off about that.

"-and she told me that something horrible happened to your brother when you were teenagers…and I…I just-"

Stan interrupted before the conversation could become anymore awkward than it already was. "Clean this all up. Clean all the dishes. Then fetch me some aspirin and…I'll tell you everything."

Dipper dashed to work, while his uncle watched his movement and remembered all the chores which Ford had done so that their father would tell them about their great grandfather.

 **[0]**

Mabel folded her arms and mentally called the golf ball a "poopy face" when it ricocheted off the boundaries and came to a stop just inches from where she'd struck it.

It had been Pacifica's idea for their first real date to take place at the miniature golf course, and Mabel was beginning to think that her newly christened girlfriend had chosen it only because of how good she already was at the past-time. She had gotten a hole-in-one on every single hole thus far.

Pacifica stifled a giggle, and Mabel turned her pout onto the blonde.

Raising a hand, Pacifica brushed some hair out of Mabel's face (causing the darker skinned girl to blush vividly) and leaned closer as she spoke. "I'm not laughing at your attempts; you just look so cute when you lose."

Mabel somehow blushed deeper and found that the sensation of Pacifica's breath against her cheek, sent shivers throughout her entire frame.

"C'mon, I'll show you how to do it properly." Pacifica insisted with a laugh in her voice.

Mabel nodded and twice as many shivers rippled through her body as Pacifica took both of her hands and helped her grip the blue and silver golf club. Their faces were right next to one another and Mabel had the intense desire to give up on miniature golf and instead, trail kisses down Pacifica's neck.

"Are you listening?" Pacifica asked, clearly amused by the look in Mabel's eye.

Mabel gave a sluggish nod and forced herself to focus on the hole in front of her, instead of the feeling of Pacifica's breasts against her shoulder.

"Right. Well, all you have to do for this one is wait for until the windmill blades are almost about to cover the hole." Pacifica instructed, her eyes locked on the hole ahead.

Mabel had not realized until now, just how warm it felt to be within Pacifica's embrace, but she was shaken from her fantasy when she registered Pacifica's instructions.

"Won't that make the ball hit the windmill?"

Pacifica shook her head and when she did, her hair tickled the side of Mabel's neck. "Just trust me on this, okay? I've literally spent hundreds of hours in this place." She replied with a little embarrassment at the admission of how long she'd spent practicing a children's game.

Mabel nodded and swung, watching as the golf ball entered the windmill.

Pacifica rewarded her with a kiss, which, unsurprisingly, was far better than watching the little animatronic elves on top of the windmill do a dance.

 **[0]**

"Honey, what are you doing up?"

Robbie looked away from the streetlight a block head. He was standing on the fire escape of their one-bedroom apartment, dressed only in his boxers. His eyes glazed over as his hand gripping the metal railing. It was wet from today's drizzling, but the rain had not really ceased coming since June.

According to Spratt, the farmer who he bought his groceries from, if the rain didn't let up, then it would cause all sorts of trouble. Mudslides, overflows…maybe even avalanches if they hit cool weather early this year.

"Just thinking." He responded as he took his girlfriend in. Just the sight of her made him feel like his troubles were fewer.

Like he'd never felt the desire to kill and…do worse to her. Like the grayness was growing across him with every passing day.

She was dressed in a bathrobe, her hair recently cut to make it shorter than usual. With her worried brown eyes and frowning lips, she was the picture of normalcy. Everything which he and his freakish life were not.

But she'd been polluted, forced to care for him because of the plague of misfortune which followed him.

She had commuted between the apartment and college since his freak-out, even though he'd been unable to tell her just how horrible the whispering in his mind had been. She was smart, however. From his aversion to cutting things in the kitchen and to physical contact with her, she could tell that whatever had happened, was unraveling him.

"About what?" She posed as she moved to his side, following his gaze to the red light.

There was no one coming. The street was empty, yet still, the light signaled to cease.

"The last week."

She sighed at his vague yet telling answer and placed her hands on her hips. "You're going to catch pneumonia out here."

He returned his gaze to her, and the morbid thoughts which had ruled his life since Cathy's accident began to return. Old friends, sitting down on the couch and commenting on the decorations.

 _If I got pneumonia, then you wouldn't have to watch me wither and die from this insane magic thing…_

He nodded and she led him inside as though he were a child. The piece of paper clenched in his hand, felt like it weighed a ton.

 **[0]**

"It's my fault. That's the first thing you should know. The two of us had been together since the beginning, and Ford would have never turned his back on me. We used to investigate caves, abandoned houses, and…we used to swim way out to this one little island. I'd always promise him that it'd be the two of us forever and all that crap." Stan revealed, taking a sip of his beer every few seconds.

The old man paused a full ten seconds before continuing. "I was the one to leave Ford to his own devices when I should have known better. I was the one who got him in trouble. The reason that he…hurt himself." Stan confessed.

This admission was followed by taking a massive swig of beer. His migraine was subsiding, but the dread growing in his stomach was considerably worse in nature.

Dipper remained silent, watching Stan's face as he recounted the events leading to his brother's death.

"I was a gambler. Heh, it made me feel like I was worth something when I actually won." Stan admitted as he stared at a spot on the carpet. He continued only after rolling is shoulder forward and beginning to crack his fingers, one by one.

"I used to spend hours playing poker. I stole most of the cash which I bet. For some reason, I got it in my head that, if I could win…me and my wife, Carla…well, if I won, then the two of us might actually be able to leave that crummy town. I can claim that it was because I knew I wasn't good at much which was legal, but really…it was just because I wanted to get away from my old man." Stan shivered as the memory of the last time he'd seen his father returned to him.

The man had been foaming at the mouth, barking that if he didn't change his ways, he would end up a bum.

 _I sure showed you wrong, didn't I?_ He thought with the type of bitterness which can rarely be attributed to anything but one's own actions.

"He told me to stop. But then again, he told me that I was too young to marry Carla. Heh…anything he said, I did the opposite of. That's because…well, Ford was always the good child. He did as he was told. He was fucking terrified of our father, always worried that he might be thrown out onto the street or committed to an institution…I tell you, my dad never laid a finger on us…my mom always took care of the spankings and all that. But he didn't need to."

Dipper squirmed, perhaps thinking of his own father and the insistence on always doing the best.

"He was a businessman, he spent most of his life at an office. But whenever he was home, he'd always just sit there, and watch the TV. Any rowdiness which me and Ford were making…well, it would sure as hell disappear the moment that he could hear us. I was scared of him too, even though I always told Ford I wasn't. The difference was that I thought that if I ignored that fear and tested his patience at every corner, I might reveal him to be, you know, a cad. Not really a scary guy. Just another bully. I thought I could free Ford from that fear by acting the way I did."

When a long silence followed, Dipper prompted him to continue. "And?"

Stan didn't flinch as he responded. He just sipped some beer and stared at the shut off TV. "I was wrong."

 **[0]**

 _"Agent Lockhart, your psychological evaluation shows that you have proven yourself to still be in amiable condition for servicing the SBE and its goals."_ Command stated, with his/her voice emitting from the little black box in the center of the table.

Security officers stood to either side of him, dressed in camo and armed with tear gas and tranquilizers should he try something stupid. Of course, Mark's hands were handcuffed, trapped behind the bars of the metal chair he'd been seated in.

He'd never seen this interrogation cell before, although, the blood stains on the concrete walls (lit by a single lightbulb dangling over his head) did nothing to assure him that his ignorance a bad thing.

 _"However, we are willing to offer you a thirty-day sabbatical, given your recent experiences with Agent Gray and with Anomaly 1019."_

Mark's heart began to pound as he recalled what the brat had said to him before those _things_ had shown up. About demons and magic.

About that book having power. A book which was now in the hands of a lunatic, and his nephew and niece.

"I'm ready to get back into the field as quickly as is possible." He asserted, feeling the Augmentation pills filling his veins with adrenaline.

 _"Excellent."_

 **[0]**

"Ever since his childhood…Ford had this…imaginary friend…who he called William. He used to have night terrors…but after 'meeting' William, he started having less restless nights. He also started doing a whole lot better in Math class."

Dipper tried to keep from gasping at this new information. He could, however, already see where this story was heading.

"Even as a teenager…he still talked to "William" every now and then. Whenever he had trouble, William would pop up and give the answer. When he was trying to talk to girls, William would read the girl's thoughts and tell Ford what to say. When he had trouble with an assignment, William would just…hand him the answer. One time, a bunch of assho-I mean, heh, meatheads were taunting Ford..."

Dipper had to smile at the notion that Stan was still trying to protect him from bad words.

"...you know, grabbing his books, shoving him around…and…well, William broke one of their arms."

Dipper's smile disappeared and his heart turned to lead.

"And…my brother had always wanted to change the world. He wanted to invent something which could help _everyone_. The way he saw it, too many people died of wounds and diseases which could have been prevented. And he thought that the trick to preventing those occurrences was creating a machine which would make physics run the way that he wanted them to. William was the one who gave him the blueprints for that machine. William was also the one who suggested that Ford get the money he needed to build it by making a deal with some really shady folks."

Dipper got the feeling that they were getting to the "it's all my fault part", so he stood and asked if he could have a little of Stan's beer. The old man smirked.

"Why don't you get us both another can and I'll finish my story when we're both a little less sober?"

Dipper nodded, thankful for the break from the truth. He was actually starting to regret not taking Wendy up on her offer to visit the movies.

 **[0]**

"YES!" Mabel jumped up and down, pumping her hands in the air as Pacifica politely clapped for her being able to get a hole in one.

Mabel's grin turned shy when she realized first; that people were staring at her, and second; that Pacifica was staring at her in a manner which made her shivers return.

She coughed and thanked Pacifica in a low voice as she moved to her girlfriend's side. "Thanks for helping me. I used to love this stuff…but…well…everyone has to grow up eventually, right?"

"If they do, I have to say…you've done a terrible job of it." Pacifica commented in a flirty tone as she leaned closer to Mabel.

The brunette giggled and then dove into a sloppy kiss, surprising Pacifica. When the kiss finally broke, they were both breathless and the subject of many stares. Neither cared, however, Pacifica because she could ruin the life of anyone who spread rumors about them, and Mabel because she'd been through hell and back to get to this part of life.

"Wow. If I had known you were this needy, I never would have fallen in love with you." Pacifica joked.

Mabel just stared at her, a smile slowly spreading across her radiant cheeks as Pacifica realized her mistake.

"Wait, I uh, I didn't mean _love,_ I meant-"

Mabel interrupted her attempt to remain cool with a hug, then a kiss, then another hug.

"C'mon!" She insisted, as she grabbed Pacifica's hand and tugged her towards the limo in the parking lot. "We've got to tell Dipper and Stan!"

Pacifica turned into a statue and Mabel turned to her, smile dropping when she noted her partner's hesitance. She gave a coaxing smile as she moved to the athletic girl's side.

"Paz…is there something wrong?"

Pacifica gulped and took Mabel's hands. "It's just that…your uncle hates my guts and has access to many guns." She said, trying to lighten the mood of the conversation so that her own anxiety did not shine through.

"Paz, my uncle doesn't like most people. But he trusts you! Just like Dipper, he learned to trust you over time."

Pacifica wanted to say that her father and Stan Pines had been in a tug of war for control for the past two decades. She wanted to say that when Stan looked at her, he didn't see a teenage girl, but a sleeper agent, whose job it was to assassinate his niece.

But when she met Mabel's eyes, she realized that she could not turn the brunette's request away.

"Alright. Fine. Let's do it. What's the worst that can happen?"

 **[0]**

Candy giggled, making sure to kiss Brenda on the cheek before bidding the taller girl a farewell and closing the back door to her house. More than a little tipsy, she stumbled through the living room and gripped the banister for support.

While Brenda had become a little tense towards the end of their rendezvous, Candy hadn't minded too much. Besides, the night had been mostly flirting and releasing stress. She had needed a night like it after hearing her parents just that morning, discussing some poor man as if he were a Guinea pig, and that's why the brunette had taken her out.

Brenda always knew what she needed, and a good thing too, because Candy still had trouble voicing her thoughts and feelings. She was certainly getting better at it, though, given her nearly met compulsion to say that she loved Brenda (that might have been the alcohol talking, however).

"What were you doing out at this hour?!" Her mother asked as she stood up. The woman had apparently been sitting on the sofa this entire time, waiting for the moment to strike.

Her form had melted into the shadows and Candy felt her heart skip a beat at the unwelcome surprise. Mabel would have commented that Candy's mother could pursue a job in the ninja business and that thought caused Candy to giggle again.

"What. Were. You. _Doing_?" Her mother demanded as she closed the distance between them. She sneered as she inspected her daughter, no doubt less approving of the dress which Candy had bought especially for Brenda.

"I was having fun…with a friend." Candy revealed without meeting her mother's eyes.

She had not yet told either of her parents about Brenda, not because she expected them to hold bigoted views regarding their relationship. But because she knew that Brenda was the type of person they'd spent their entire lives saving their daughter from breathing the same air with.

Even with the room mostly darkened, Candy could see the expression on her mother's face. It was the same one which she'd used many times before when attempting to probe just where he daughter had gone wrong.

Her mother sniffed her once before disgust crossed her face. Instantly, her cold anger disappeared and she lapsed into Korean.

 _"My god, you smell like a drunk. Who bought liquor for you? Who?!"_ Her mother demanded as if she was going to run down the responsible party with her car.

"It was only a little-"

 _"Stop lying to me! This is serious!"_ Her mother instilled as she gripped Candy's chin. The pain of her mother's fingers pressing against her skin forced Candy to meet the woman's eyes. _"Was the person who drove you here drunk? Did any police officers see you?"_

Candy tried to slide the hand off as she explained herself. _"No, no one saw me. Please, I was just-"_

She was unable to move the hand, and instead, it grew tighter. _"What is wrong with you? You are dressed like a prostitute, you are speaking back to your own mother, and you smell like a bum! This is disgusting, did all the things your father and I teach you about having self-respect just…disappear? Are you really so desperate for attention that you'd act this way?"_

Candy yanked her mother's hand _"Leave me be! I was perfectly safe and I only had a couple drinks! And I wouldn't have had any if I had normal parents!"_

Her mother fumed and pointed to the bottom step as she screeched. _"Get back here, right now Jae! You should know better than to speak in such a way about your elders."_

Candy shook her head and, seeing the mounting rage on her mother's face, bolted up the staircase, throwing herself into her room and locking the door in as few movements as she could muster. Her mother did not give chase, as the telltale sound of heels against the wooden staircase never came.

Stomach unsettled, Candy collapsed on her bed and tried not to throw up. She closed her eyes and hoped that her mother might drop the subject by the morning.

She knew, that she would not.

 **[0]**

Stan emptied his can before continuing. "I stole the money which Ford needed to build his machine. I used to gamble. I lost all of it and then some. When Ford realized what I'd done, he panicked…he'd always been self-conscious, he…he had an extra finger on each hand as…I'm sure Wendy told you…and in his panic he…" Stan let out a choked breath before forcing himself to say it. "He drugged himself and cut them off."

Dipper struggled not to look at his uncle in a different light.

"So…we devised a plan. Since the two of us had always used our likeness to escape school, punishments, and bullies before…we figured, how hard could it be to fool the mob?" Stan chuckled.

"Being the best actor, I pretended to be Ford and offered him, claiming that I'd hurt him as revenge for gambling away the money they'd lent me before. I wore his glasses and cut his hair. They fell for the trick. Of course, they didn't want 'me', they wanted their money. So I skipped town and they followed…they had no intention of being made a fool by some punk, you know?"

He gave an unpleasant smile as he said this. "Anyway, I faked my death when I got to and lived in Vegas a while, you know…doing jobs. One day, I got a letter from Ford. I don't know how he knew where I was…but he was in trouble and by the time that I got here, his plans had gone to shit."

Just as he was about to continue, the front door opened and Mabel strode in, hand in hand with Pacifica, who refused to meet either Stan or Dipper's gaze.

Mabel mustered an uplifting expression and Dipper noticed how she was struggling to find the best words to admit something.

Pacifica blurted it out before Mabel could say anything more. "I…really like Mabel. And she…really likes me…and I umm…we have kissed now…suh-several times."

The silence which followed was crushing for all four individuals in the room.

Dipper leaped to his feet and hugged Mabel. Surprised by his affection, she smiled and hugged back. In his ear, she whispered a humble "thanks, bro."

He replied with a little bit of attitude in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood. "I kind of figured it out a while ago."

"Shut up, you drunk." She replied, before giving him a playful punch to the side.

When Dipper stepped away, she turned her attention to her uncle and licked her lips. The old man was glancing between her and Pacifica, clearly muddling through the new information.

Then, with some struggle, he stood and coughed to prepared for speech. He spoke with eyes downcast. "I think you're a little young to be in a relationship…" He met Mabel's eyes with his own, heartfelt brown ones. "But I think that you are old enough to make decisions for yourself."

Mabel bounded forward and pulled him into a hug. While she squealed "thank you" repeatedly, he stroked her hair and gave her a downcast, but loving look.

Watching him do so, put Pacifica at ease and she was only taken aback when Dipper spoke up directly beside her.

"I'm sure I don't have to give you the protective sibling spiel, right?" Dipper asked with a smug look.

It was clear that he had no real fears regarding what she might say or do to his sister. That made Pacifica feel all the guiltier.

She shook her head and he offered her a hug. A smirk came to her face and she gently pushed the taller teen away. "We're not that close." She confirmed, eyes never leaving his.

Stan recommended they break out the champagne, and none of them were inclined to disagree.

They talked and laughed, long into the night, until Stan was adamant that Dipper and Mabel get the sleep that they needed. Dipper cast a glance back at his uncle, trying to confirm that the story would have an ending. Stan returned the glance with a reassuring nod, and Dipper felt something within him fall loose.

The idea of his uncle finally coming clean with everything, made him feel like the trust he'd placed in the old man was legitimate. And with that knowledge, he was sure that he could rest easy.

 **[0]**

Robbie had waited until Tambry was completely asleep to slip out of bed, dress, and exit their apartment building. He left a note on the dresser in case she awoke unware of his location. He'd been forced to sell his cell phone, along with all but one of his guitars, to make sure that he could afford to keep the apartment and the luxuries which Tambry loved.

No, the little paper slip which he'd found wedged between the cushions of the couch, no doubt a reminder of the last tenant, wouldn't lead to any job opportunities. But it might lead to something much, much more important.

He had to stop under a streetlight several times to re-read the address on the card and to endure the moths which buzzed about above his head. He also had to avoid the Brotherhood, who had just started their nightly search for victims.

But standing in front of the pawnshop ("Mountain Attractions"), he knew for certain that it was worth it. He could never fulfill his promise to Cathy in his current state, nor could he hope to offer Tambry anything other than a disappointing life of medical bills and medications.

He opened the door and stepped into darkness.

 **[0]**

Pacifica exited the back door of the Shack, her hand still at her left cheek. She counted every single kiss which she had shared with Mabel. But the one which the brunette had just planted against her cheek, had to have beat them all.

"So, you two had fun tonight?"

The blonde tensed and turned, to find Stan leaning against the railing of the five quick steps. A cigarette lay between the index and middle finger of his right hand. Her expression caused him to smile as smoke curled out of his mouth and up into the night air.

Pacifica gave a meek nod.

"Good, I'd hate it to know that you were spending all that time with my niece…when she's already been through more than you can imagine…for any other reason than to have _fun_."

The air suddenly felt frigid, and her stomach resembled a pit of slime. She swallowed and considered walking all the way around to the front, just to avoid the old man.

Her limo was lying just twenty yards away, however, and she knew that her parents would already be angry with her for taking so long to tell Mabel about their plight. She took a deep breath and waited until Stan was staring at the forest across from him, before beginning to descend the steps.

When his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist on the last step, it became clear that he was not done. Pacifica had always been athletic, but it became clear in an instant that he could have snapped her arm if he had desired to.

He flicked his cigarette into the open dumpster behind him and leaned in close to her ear. Her heart ran a mile a minute as his methanol choked breath reached her and tickled her ear.

He spoke in a low, unforgiving tone, his rasp completely disappeared.

"If you hurt her if you treat and use her like another toy made for your fucking amusement," He bent her wrist and she let out a hiss of pain. Pepper spray lay at the base of her purse, right alongside a semi-automatic.

But she knew better than to attempt the use of either on him. She'd seen photos of what he'd done to the demon worshippers who tried to break into his house and access the legendary machinery in his basement.

"If you screw her and then break her heart, or generally betray my family's trust…" He chuckled and let go. She knew better than to move, waiting for him to completely remove his fangs before running. "…then that torture pit which your parents drop you in whenever you act up is going to look like a fucking _vacation_ compared to what I'm going to do to you. Understand, young lady?"

Pacifica was sent back to when she'd awoken in the middle of the night, to find Stan Pines in the living room, arguing with her father. From the top of the stairs, she'd watched them circle one another, two sharks in a very small ocean.

Then Stan had thrown her father into the kitchen and calmly told him in no uncertain hands that "if you try and get your grubby little hands on them again, then I'll cut off your fingers in front of your wife, one at a time."

With that, he'd thanked her awakened and horrified mother for the wine, and headed out the front door, into the pouring storm.

A knot tied in her stomach and she spoke with a sob seeping into her vocal cords and scratching to get out. "Yes, sir."

With that, he lit a second cigarette and climbed the stairs, whistling "Beyond the Sea" as she stared at her limo and tried to regain the compulsion to move. When she finally did, she rushed to the car door, flung it open and slid inside without looking back.

Stan was watched her from the backdoor, his filthy grin illuminated by the red fire which flared around his cancer stick. He waved just before she disappeared from view.

 **[0]**

Tate watched the ripples on the water, enjoying the hum of the bugs and splash of distant fish attempting to catch them. His fishing pole lay beside him, the wire dangling beneath the surface.

The sound of scuffling footsteps met him, and a grin which put most people off crossed his face. He turned and adjusted his cap, before zipping his jacket mostly up.

"Honestly, you lasted longer than I thought you would..." Tate admitted, with elbows perched on the railing of the dock.

"I'm not here for your blood money." Brenda persisted, looking him up and down.

He smirked and thought about when she'd first approached him. For a dyke she had offered a pretty good blowjob in exchange for his goods and services. She hadn't looked half-bad either, better than most of the whores who Preston sent his way after they threatened to blackmail or discovered a bit too much about their employer.

Not that Tate had raped any of those poor, misguided souls. No, it was far more satisfying for him, to first adopt them into the "family", to convince them that no impulse should be shunned or worse, rejected. Then, they would give themselves to him willingly, and the rush of power would feel incredible.

Priscilla could play figurehead for the Idionists but Tate would always be the one who was really in charge.

If he had learned one thing from his father, it was that controlling the mind was far more important than imposing onto the body. And screaming had been a turn off of his, ever since listening to his baby brother squeal in starvation.

"Then what are you here for?" He asked as he turned towards his rod. If he wasn't mistaken, it had bobbed.

Someone down there in the inky depths was signaling.

"You've been following me. You sent people, to follow me and Cho. I want it to end." She stated as coldly as she possibly could.

He stifled a grin. "I'm sure that I don't know _what_ you're talking about."

She grabbed his shoulder. Damn, she was stronger than he remembered. She could probably hold his head under the water at this moment and steal his stash. Hell, she might even get away with it, given how much the Norwood's loathed him, and how much Durland had to suck up to them.

But then, her little pet might wake up alone and naked in a cage somewhere, never to see the light of day again. Loathing or not, those who messed with their business had to be made an example of. She knew that she had allowed it to happen to several individuals.

"I'm telling you the truth." He assured eyes focused on the reflection of the moon on the water.

"Like hell you are. Who else would send folks to stalk us?"

Tate shoved her hand free and removed the same knife from his belt, which he used to gut fish and carve bait. Not a threat, just a little tactic, a little something to remind her who was the adult here.

"Do I look like I know? You're an investment, if someone else was messing with you, it'd be my job to stop them and keep you in peak physical condition."

Brenda stepped away and shook her head, speaking in a voice clouded in self-doubt. "No. I'm never joining you and your freaks again. I thought I made that clear."

Tate nodded sagely. "Just like how I'm never going to toss a body into this here lake. Scouts honor."

He could tell that already; the hunger was pulling at her. It made her lips go dry, and oh, how much she needed to wet them. To feel important again.

She turned and stalked back to her motorcycle.

"Hey! Your pet,"

"Don't call her tha-"

"Her parents hired my father, didn't they?" Tate asked as he returned the knife to his belt. The pole began to bend. He didn't care.

She frowned. "Yeah. Why?"

Tate had to stop himself from laughing aloud. That was sure to disturb the Fair Folk, who were no doubt on their nightly jaunt.

He replied with all his teeth revealed with menacing joy. "Well, there's your answer right there."

Brenda frowned. "What are you-?"

Tate responded as he rose the rod and unhooked the fish he caught. Out comes the knife, in your fingers go. Grip the bugger by the gills so he doesn't try anything. Just like the whores and the homeless, once you hold them in the correct way, they eventually let you do anything you want to them.

"Paranoid nutjobs will always find other paranoid nut jobs to make 'em feel better about their stupidity. Anyone who is willing to work alongside my dear old dad is going to pull off the exact same authoritarian bullshit."

The culprits behind her stalkers dawned on Brenda and the purr of her tearing away sounded almost as pleasant to the disturbed young man, as the sound of the fish gurgling as he dug his knife into it.

From somewhere within the recently repaired mansion which Priscilla spent 90% of her time inside, a girl screamed. Tate emptied the guts of his catch into the bucket at his feet, before throwing the meal back for the creatures which swam beneath the surface of the water and occasionally called out to him.

 **[0]**

Robbie tore the door to his apartment open and embraced Tambry before she could yell at him.

"Where were you?" She demanded as she pushed him off, the anger in her eyes dimming at the sight of his smile. "I was worried sick!"

Robbie tried not to cry and held his new hand to his chest as he spoke. "I had some business to take care of."

Tambry gaped at the hand and when her eyes moved to his beaming face, she realized that he wasn't wearing his hearing aid. He took her stunned silence as a sign to renew their embrace and Tambry did not protest this time. She knew she should have been happy for him, she should have been excitedly asking him where he'd gone.

But something about the situation made her stomach turn, even as he explained that he had bought the little amber pendant around his neck, which had restored him. Even as he juggled things with the grin of a little boy, even as he ran his hands along her and promised that the cost, no matter how high, had been worth it so that he could hold her. Even as his new hand snuck down her panties and made her shudder, she felt a little nauseous.

Something was terribly off and she felt horrible for thinking so when he was so overjoyed, but she couldn't deny it. Her parents had always told her that "if something is too good to be true, then it probably is."

And she couldn't help but wonder what cost Robbie had just paid, as she lay beside his sleeping body.

 **[0]**

Pacifica stumbled inside her house, beyond shaken by her encounter with the proprietor of the Mystery Shack. Jim, the head butler asked if she was alright as he took her coat.

"As rain." She responded vacantly, her eyes locked on the two figures standing at the end of the main hall, one clutching a glass of white wine, while the other gripped a cane.

She knew what came next. Had Jim known, he would have called the police. But he didn't and she knew better than to tell him, for fear of her punishment being prolonged.

Unwillingly, she slunk towards them, hoping to god that they were in a forgiving mood. As pigs were not dotting the night sky with their flight patterns, she had to doubt the possibility.

"You're late." Her father observed when she reached them.

"I know."

He sneered, his tan face much more handsome than her mother was beautiful but able to show twice the disgust in half the time. "Did you at least tell her? Or did you spend all your time with your hand down her panties?"  
Something lodged in Pacifica's throat. They both knew that she didn't need to answer his question.

"She's clearly grown lazy." Her mother commented after a sip of the vintage.

"I think she just needs some reminding of her place." Her father stated with a vicious glare tossed her way.

Without second warning, he grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall. She whimpered, knowing by now, better than to scream. Down the first flight of stairs, pushed down the second. She caught herself, preventing herself from needing a trip to the emergency room and a date with a needle and thread.

Her father, just a silhouette now that the only light down here was a single bulb not too far above, descended one step at a time. Her entire body shivered as she shrunk up against the wall, knowing that he would kick her if she lay between him and the bunker door.

Her father jammed the key into the lock (the same little silver key which he always had on his person), and with the click of the opened door, Pacifica felt her hopes sink. He would not back down now, there was no point in continuing to beg.

She cried as he grabbed her hair and dragged her inside, but was not so naive to beg that he reconsider as he closed the door. The rooms only lighting source, another, solitary bulb, illuminated the instruments which her father enjoyed using on her. But he used none on this occasion.

He was too angry to take the time.

"You had one job to do."

He clocked her, causing her to strike the cold metal floor of the family bunker all over again.

"I give you all the money in the world, to squander on whatever shit you want…and this is how you repay me?"

She placed her hands on the floor. Big mistake.

"I give you an entire summer to make those idiots trust you…if their parents had disappeared they would have slipped out of our grasp…"

He slammed a foot down on her right hand and she cried out.

"All that time, all that time to do whatever the fuck you want, with only one condition…"

His knuckles cracked across her chin and he stomped harder on her hand, eliciting yet another unheard scream to be added to the rooms repertoire.

 _"And this is how you fucking repay me?"_

Pacifica let out a whimper and babbled apologies as she kneeled in front of him.

He removed his shiny black loafers from her hand and began to circle his vulnerable daughter. "It's my fault, my fault for giving you this much time between trips down here. It's a mistake which I intend to remedy in the next week… _unless fucking tell them!_ "

His shoe slammed into her ribs and she fell over, making the same kind of promises which she had as a little girl. Her tolerance for pain had increased, but she always fell back into the same persona after enough prompting from her father's punishments.

He grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her to a stand, despite her wobbling legs. His fiery eyes met hers and when he spoke, he sounded inhuman.

"I swear to god I will drown you in the lake if I have to! I will cleanse this family of your worthless hide and _drown you in the lake_! And your little friends will get rid of the curse for me because they'll think it's what killed you. Then I won't have to deal with it, or my whore daughter trying to eat me out of house and home."

"I'LL DO IT!" She shrieked. "I'LL DO IT FIRST THING TOMORROW, I SWEAR. I'LL DO IT! I'M SORRY…I'M SO SORRY…"

He spat on her. "You really are pathetic."

His knee collided with her stomach and he tossed her into the bookcase against the wall.

"If I didn't need you in better condition, I'd give you a new scar to remember this lesson by…but…I guess that'll just have to wait."

Pacifica didn't respond, except to sob harder.

Her father took her upstairs, where her mother cleaned off her blood and re-dressed her, all the while telling her how wonderful things would be, when this all wasn't necessary. Pacifica just kept giving meek nods, afraid that if she was too despondent then her mother would think she wasn't listening.

She would have cried herself to sleep, had there been any tears left in her ducts to shed.

 **[0]**

Dipper awoke to the sound of crying coming from downstairs.

He stood and stumbled to the door, rubbing his eye and wishing that Wendy had stayed the night with him. Waking up next to her always made him feel like he was much less vulnerable than he really was.

He removed a pistol from atop his dresser and tensed in preparation for the worst. Then he eased open the door and slinked down the hall. The crying was coming from the other side of the house, the kitchen more specifically.

Peeking around every corner, he did not make his presence known until he saw Mabel sitting at the kitchen table, hugging her sobbing girlfriend. Without her make-up, Pacifica looked like a death camp victim. She had scabs trailing down her neck and circling her wrists. Most hadn't even scabbed open.

The bruises alone were the stuff of nightmares.

When Mabel saw him, she whispered something to Pacifica. The blonde sniffed and nodded. Then his sister stood and moved to his side.

"Dipper, Pacifica just ran away from home…they…her parents, they were trying to get her to use us and they…"

He nodded, his suspicions as to what they did to her apparently minor compared to the real thing.

"…Stan said that she could stay with us. Is that…alright with you?"

Dipper shook himself, his eyes focused on the cut riding up Pacifica's thigh. She was dressed in a coat and had thrown on some week old shorts and a stained tank top. She was panting, and her eyes circled the room every few minutes.

"Of course." He replied, a little surprised that Mabel had considered he might be heartless enough to turn the blonde away.

She smiled, and glanced back at Pacifica, giving a thumbs up (which seemed to help the traumatized teen) before turning back to Dipper.

"Can we talk?" She asked. From her expression, it was clear that there was something else, which she hadn't mentioned.

Dipper gave a short nod and wondered where Stan was as he watched Mabel promise Pacifica that she would be back in only a minute. The paler teen seemed to be afraid her parents might materialize and drag her back to their hell. The way she shook caused more nausea within him, than watching Agent Gray die had.

Mabel waited until they were out of earshot, and positioned around the same place in the living room that Stan had relayed the truth to him. "Dipper…I feel like…I really want to tell you something…but I'm afraid about your reaction."

Dipper frowned and spoke in the most comforting tone he could manage. "Mabel, I found out that you made a deal with a demon _and_ that you like girls in the past week. Whatever you have to tell me, I'm sure I can handle it."

Her downcast eyes raised and a warm smile spread across her cheeks. "Alright…well…here goes nothing…"

 _SHUNK!_

Pain streaked into Dipper's chest and his legs went limp. He got to glance at the rusty knife which his sister had just embedded into his stomach, and then at the unwavering warm smile before he collapsed onto the brown carpet.

He made some choking noises as she bent to his side and spoke in the same jovial tone which she had used to tell him about the latest episode of her favorite show or her newest art project. "I really, really hate you…and I've really, really wanted to do that, ever since I heard you jerking off in the bathroom, clutching my panties, I've wanted to do that. But I didn't think about doing it until you summoned those zombies and almost killed everybody."

"I really, really hate you…and I've really, really wanted to do that, ever since I heard you jerking off in the bathroom, clutching my panties, I've wanted to do that. But I didn't think about doing it until you summoned those zombies and almost killed everybody."

Dipper hiccupped blood as she listed all the little moments which had built to make her hate him. She never got to finish the list, however, as everything went dark.

Dipper's head struck the floorboards beneath his bed, and his eyes snapped open. He let out a scream and jumped to his feet, grabbing the gun off of his dresser and clutching it to his chest as he leaped back into bed and pressed his naked back against the window which his bed ran along.

The sweater which dribbled down his back was cold. His fingers were shaking like Pacifica had been in his dream. He became dizzy from hyperventilation and stared at the painting of a desert, which hung on the wall across from his crouching position.

The door was kicked open and Stan, in his boxers and wife-beater, jerked his rifle towards the first sign of movement. When he flicked on the lamp and discovered that Dipper was alone, he came to Dipper's side, the barrel of his gun slightly lowered.

"Kid, what's wrong?"

Dipper replied in a mumble, eyes still searching like a spooked rabbit. "Nightmare. Just a nightmare."

Stan let out a long sigh and sat down next to him. "You really scared me. It's four o'clock in the morning."

Dipper whimpered. "Suh-sorry."

"Is everything alright?" Mabel asked as she moved into view, dressed in a dark blue nightie and fuzzy slippers.

"Dipper just had a nightmare..." Stan responded as he ran a hand over the young man's hair.

"Do you want to sleep in my room?" Mabel asked, stepping into the room and shivering when she realized he'd left the window open.

Dipper shook his head and almost felt guilty given her expression.

"I think Dipper and I need to uh, talk..." Stan confirmed as he placed a hand on Dipper's shoulder.

Mabel rubbed her eye again, and shrugged, clearly too tired to argue or notice that there was something off about this.

When her footfalls up the staircase had finally faded, Stan turned to his protégée. "I guess, I should tell you the rest of that story, huh?"  
Dipper shrugged just like his twin. He was so shaken that he'd completely forgotten about his great uncle Ford.

"So, I around in Gravity Falls in the middle of winter. Everything was snowed in, and I uh, I lost track of where I was going. I probably would have run out of gas and frozen to death, had McGucket not been walking along the road. I asked for directions, and he asked me what business I had with the 'mad scientist.' Heh, this was before Fids uh, lost a lot of his memories." Stan paused and Dipper wondered if he considered that confusion to be a good thing. But Stan picked up the story before the question could be posed.

"I told him that Ford needed my help and he pointed me in the right direction. See, my brother had found the materials he needed to build his miracle-working machine in this town. He never told me how, but he did. And…well, Fids had just lost his wife and had tried to use the machine to bring her back to life."

Dipper found it very difficult not to cry right then and there.

"…it didn't work, obviously, because The Machine wasn't made for that. And as a result, Fids saw something…incomprehensible. He started going mad ever since that point. But he still, considered Ford a friend…and he sent me the right way. When I found Ford he was…lying in a puddle of his own blood. 'William' had helped him design the machine, right alongside Fids. And 'William' had driven him to…attempt suicide. I…I had to turn on The Machine to heal him, but in doing so, I…allowed Bill to have a better hold on reality. The use of the machine, it attracted these idiots, who Bill had been whispering to for years. In order to fund his machine, Ford had done some pretty shady stuff."

Stan grew more and more uncomfortable with this part of the story, and Dipper wondered what he'd done to keep his brother safe.

Stan answered this unspoken question. "So I sold a lot of samples which he'd been holding, to you know, pay for a fake ID for me and to refurbish his house, to get all the guns which I own. I took up shop in the backyard, selling cars. Ford worked in the basement, trying to seal up the rift he'd created, while I sold cars. When the rift was finally sealed and Bill's followers left town. Bill stopped bothering Ford as well, but only later would I figure out that he…"

Stan scoffed, his breathing pattern becoming more and more distorted. "Well, the bastard had been messing around with your sister…and while she was here, he tricked her into a deal. And…the only way to stop him from possessing her whenever he wanted and making her hurt herself, was to, hold her down and use the machine to get rid of her brand. Ford was going to seal up the new rift but…"

"Mabel killed him." Dipper blurted, with growing apprehension. Every cell in his body begged for Stan to prove him wrong.

Otherwise…well, just thinking about _otherwise_ , sent him into a tailspin.

"No, no, she didn't…one of Bill's followers did. But with him dead…I had to go back to selling his specimens and when those ran out…I made fake ones. In the meantime, I hid the rift, so that no one could ever break it out of the container that Ford had made for it."

Dipper allowed that to sink in before speaking. "Where is it?"

"The rift?"

Dipper nodded.

"In a safe. Deep, deep underground."

Dipper returned his eyes to the painting of a desert. "And The Machine?"

"Destroyed. I…chopped it to bits. You know, to make sure no one could ever make the rift again."

Dipper nodded. It made sense. All of it.

Then why did it sound so much like a lie? Was he paranoid or were there bits of the story which Stan considered too disturbing to share?

"Should I not…call you, 'Stan', anymore? I mean, if your brother's name was Stanford-"

Stan shook his head. "I've gone by that name for so many years…besides, that is my actual, legal name."

"What, but I thought-"

Stan lightened, amused by his nephew's confusion. "Both of our names are Stanford. We were named after our great-granddad, I'm Stanford Leland Pines, and Ford was…Stanford Aquila Pines."

Dipper gave him a look, and Stan shrugged. "Hey, my blame my parents…there the nut jobs who came up with that name. Anyway, I was Lee and he was Ford. That's just how we figured it."

Dipper smirked. "I guess terrible names run in the family, right?"

Stan nodded and spoke when Dipper's smile faded. "Of course, Ford's wasn't as bad as yours."

Dipper smacked him lightly across the arm and watched as his uncle chuckled at his own joke. After an awkward lapse in conversation, Stan cleared his throat and

"You sure that you're alright? I'm sure your sister wouldn't mind if-"

"I'm good. Thanks. It was just a nightmare." Dipper responded as he stood and moved to the windowsill. "See? I'll take some sleeping pills…" Dipper compromised, showing off the prescription.

Reluctant, but knowing that Dipper would not back down on the issue, Stan gave him a pat on the back, and asked if there was anything he needed.

"No, thank you, I think I just need to…think for a little while," Dipper explained.

Stan scratched his stubble and then nodded. "Alright then, sweet dreams."

As Dipper lay back down, he tried to puzzle out whether or not his sister could be possessed at any moment, and thus, could kill him while he slept.

Dipper snapped off the light and dug his head into the pillows.

Only as he showered to get ready for school, would Dipper see that he'd scratched himself during his nightmare.

 **[0]**

Stan stood on the front porch, watching as Mabel tried to pry the truth out of Pacifica ("Why are you so pale? What happened?"). The blonde didn't look up, but he was quite sure that she could feel his eyes on her.

His mind was returned to when he had stood on this same porch, and shared a beer with Ford.

"I'm sorry, Lee, I didn't mean to mess everything up so much…" He had admitted, his eyes mournfully surveying the landscape.

Stan had finished his beer before he responded. "If the world is going to end, I'd prefer that we drop the blame game."

"…thanks."

Stan had shrugged and tossed his beer bottle as far as he possibly could. Only when it shattered, did he speak, "It's my fault as much as it is yours."

Ford had glanced between him and the glass, before tossing the bottle in a similar fashion. The nerd that he was, he'd used momentum, calculated the wind, and thrown it at an angle.

It landed further than his brother's half-hearted toss, disappearing amongst the emerald bushes.

Turning to his brother, Ford's face had been highlighted by the red light of the sky as he spoke. "So…now that we have that out of the way…can we…you know…get this over with?"  
Stan had turned his attention to the great black mass in the sky. "Yup. They're relying on us…we can't stall any longer."

Stan smiled. He remembered that moment vividly, and it only became sinister when he realized that he could not recall what events had led to that moment, let alone what followed it.

It was as Pacifica broke down crying into Mabel's arms, that he realized someone had used McGucket's Device on him. And that made his muscles transform into rubber.

 **[0]**

 ** _Message_** :

 **Yppah si senihs taht gnihtyreve ton.**

* * *

 ** _Comments_** :

 **Coldblue** :

 _Woah. Just a lot of whoa in this chapter that blows your mind away._

 _Mable Pines:_

 _Wow, I did not expect all that to happen. Being a servant or host to Bill Cipher gave Mable the ability to banish Ghouls with Bill's brand on Mable hand/arm. Pretty awesome to the point that it reminds me of Anime/Manga with being so tasteful to read. Of course, it is because a lot of fucked up shit happened to Mable at school. It was a shaky read, to begin with, in this chapter, but overall this was a great chapter to read. Pacifica Norwood and Mable Pines are close now. Did not see that coming, but I like it. Maybe Pacifica and Mable do have a kid in the future from one of those reviews where both female eggs or whatever can be made into a child. Either that they have Dipper donate some sperm or something. Mable and Dipper still have a close relationship as siblings. Mable wants to protect herself and have Dipper not worry so much, but she can't stop bad things from happening. Government Agents going rogue was not something Mable expected. Still, I love how the sibling bond is going on with Dipper and Mable._

 _ **The brand is on her palm.**_

 _ **Remember again, that Mabel's daughter in the plagued future may not exist in the future of the current timeline.**_

 _Dipper Pines:_

 _Pretty good and in Dipper character. A lot of interesting things happening in this chapter. Dipper now has the Dairies from Gruncle Twins and also Gideon Gleeful's journal on Magic. Pretty powerful knowledge. And with Mable having special treatment/ability from Bill Cipher brand, Dipper Pines has the power of knowledge on his side. I did not expect Ghouls or Zombies going "World War Z" on us. That's what the Ghouls were like._

 _I love that Dipper tried to help his grandfather and felt guilty about the Agents. The beginning of "Depravity Falls" had Dipper Pines angst and sort of being unfeeling towards strangers. Here in this chapter shows Dipper actually maturing emotional and feeling empathy. I did not expect Dipper and Wendy to make out or have sex. Whatever that chapter implies. I don't know if Dipper and Wendy are in a relationship or friends with 'benefit' type of deal, but it kind of satisfies me knowing that Dipper is not alone. He has someone to trust and have his back and that Wendy._

 _ **Dipper is a certainly a better person than he was a summer ago. He used to be agitated, judgmental, self-loathing, pretentious, and violent. Now he's not pretentious at all, and more responsible. It takes more to tick him off, and he's much more forgiving of others (and himself).**_

 _ **They made out. Then they had sex.**_

 _Questions_

 _1) Is Mable/Pacifica and Dipper/Wendy a set pairing or what? Do you plan to continue to write in some chapters of how they're relationship progress?_

 _ **Nothing is set. Their relationships will progress. I'd be a terrible writer if I brought them up and then never utilized them again. That's not storytelling, that's wish fulfillment.**_

 _2) Who spied on Mable and Pacifica make out session?_

 _ **Gideon and Bill's servant, Bergmann. Sorry if you forgot about him.**_

 _Suggestions_

 _1) I sort of want it to be a set pairing. Of course, it not like they are going to NOT have issues. Pacifica Norwood is a high profile target and I bet that Dipper and Wendy will be confused on what they're relationship based on. I love the pairings of Mable/Pacifica and Dipper/Wendy. I should have seen the Mable and Pacifica pairing coming for a while now. Still, I hope you write their relationship progress, but it can be brief! "Depravity Falls" is about the mystery, violence, horror and basically the struggle of living. Not a romance story. It just nice how you fit it in._

 _I do wonder if Dipper and Wendy did have sex and what going to happen with Pacifica and Mable relationship? Don't describe or write a sex chapter. Just sort of hint at it like you've been doing in "Depravity Falls."_

 _ **I wouldn't consider writing a chapter devoted towards sex. People aren't supposed to be able to masturbate to what is intended to evoke fear and revulsion. I probably haven't scared one person thus far, but I'm not going to quit trying because of that.**_

 _ **Also, yes, they did have sex.**_

 _3) I can't believe I forgot the Zodiac. Wendy is SnowFlake, Dipper is PineTree, Mable is ShootingStar and I guess Stan Pines is CrescentMoon. It makes me wonder if the Zodiac in "Depravity Falls" will be used better than it was in "Gravity Falls". Did anyone think that the Zodiac would have had a bigger meaning? It was just Stanford, Stanley, Dipper, and Mable Pines saving the day with their Twin Tricks. I hope the Zodiac is older and ancient that it is known to many civilizations around the world. Sort of a big mystery as to why this Zodiac is found in ruins of Egypt, China, Maya, and other more ancient civilization kept the Zodiac symbol and how are they connected to it. Sort of show great mystery and questions that boggle the mind in "Depravity Falls"._

 _ **The Zodiac has a bigger meaning, yes.**_

 **Ferality** :

 _Yet another great story. The darker take on Scary-oke was sweet. I'm guessing the reason Robbie was turning into a Zombie comes from the fact that his skin grafts were probably made from donated tissue and that tissue attempted to join the hordes of the undead. I love the use of Grandpa Shermy, Gorney, and Emma Sue. Seeing Stan fight Shermy for Dipper & Mabel was also nice._

 _Glad to see both Wendip and Mabcifica are happening. Though I'm worried about it, also._

 _Keep up the good work and have fun writing._

 ** _Thanks!_**

 **The Keeper of Worlds:**

 _Loved this, hope Tambry made it out ok too. Robbie deserves the peace here. Really glad the girls are out in open to each other and the WenDip splashing in was quite nice. Trembley's revamp was exquisite._

 ** _Thanks! Tambry is fine. I guess I should have had a scene with Robbie explaining his behavior to her. Sorry._**


	20. S2, E3: Root of all evil

**_I moved the comments up here so that the ending of this episode has a more profound effect._**

* * *

 **Comments:**

 **IsmaelParic** _:_

 _No. You. Didn't._

 _No. You. Didn't._

 _No. You. Didn't._

 _I thought you said that there was not going to be romance for Dipper or Mabel in this version of Depravity Falls or were you talking about something deep? Is this a temporary thing? That's why you decided to put it in the plot?_

 ** _Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe I stated that relationships will not be the focus, not that they will not exist. A lot of anxiety can be milked from people loving one another._**

 **situation711** _:_

 _My hero! Gosh, you never disappoint! This has to be my favorite fiction atm and is restoring my love for fanfiction..._

 ** _It's really nice to know that I can do that for someone._**

 **Fereality** _:_

 _Another great chapter._

 _Preston has always been my most hated human villain in the (main) series and this chapter just placed him in that position in this AU replacing Gideon. Loving the Mabcifica moment, I am thinking Paz is actually falling for Mabel but her Biological Donors (the way the Norwoods were acting they don't deserve to be called parents) are pushing her to do something to possibly use her._

 _Dipper getting the dirt on Stan and Ford was also fairly interesting. Stan feeling like they both need a drink in order get through it was also telling._

 _I love the Candy/Brenda relationship and really dislike the outside influences that are trying to mess with it. Tate seems to be a royal douche here. And Candy's mom is almost as controlling as Preston (main universe version at least)._

 _Worried about Robbie, mostly for Tambry's sake._

 _Keep up the good work and have fun writing._

 ** _Thanks! Biological Donors seems a tad too friendly! Xd_**

 **Coldblue** _:_

 _Mable Pines:_

 _I like how she and Pacifica's relationship just seems so romantic! It looks pretty good, but I wonder if the relationship will last. You did an amazing job with the romance there because I'm NOT a fan of Mable/Pacifica. You just made me a fan of Mable/Pacifica with your amazing writing. I do love how Mable is open to her family about her relationship and is very supportive. Sorry about forgetting that Bill Cipher brand is on Mable and forgetting/double checking in on Gideon Gleeful minion Bergmann. I have to re-read "Depravity Falls" and I'm sort of excited for it because I been bored recently._

 ** _That's really good to know. I was afraid a bunch of people would hate the pairing and quit on me._**

 _Candy:_

 _I have to write out her Korean name. It just does not feel right calling her Candy in "Depravity Falls" because there is so much more. Okay, so Candy was partying and making out with Brenda. That good and even letting her guard down by having fun. Her parents? Controlling and seems to be very traditional that they would not accept that Candy is a Lesbian. Fiddleford McGucket or her parents are watching her and Brenda, but why? What reason or purpose to get involved with teenager relationship when they are super scientists that can blow your mind with their genius/inventions along with working for a shadow government agency. Boy. It's getting intense._

 ** _Her full name is Jae "Candy" Hun Cho. Brenda calls her Jae when being serious. Her parents know nothing of her nickname, but if they did, they would consider it an affront to her heritage._**

 ** _I was implying that Candy's parents were responsible for her and Brenda being followed, sorry if that was confusing. McGucket doesn't really care about them._**

 _Questions_

 _1) Will Agent Lockhart ever thinking of actually having a sit down with the Pines Family and to get the idea on the situation with them since they exposed that Demons and Magic are real? Will he just stick to spying/bugging their place?_

 ** _As his first experience with the subject ended_** **poorly _, he's not going to view magic as something keeping around._**

 _3) Will Robbie actually get money if his parents are dead from the 'Ghoul Attack' on their Life Insurance or probably get a job to make sure he and Tambry are living comfortable for their future?_

 ** _I hadn't thought to include that, but I think I will include his inheritance (at some point) in the story._**

 _5) Have you thought of Zodiac being on many signs in Ancient cultures and the Governments with the Shadow Agency that Agent Lockhart works for covers them up from Cave Paintings to Mayans, Egypt, Chinese Dynasty and so on?_

 ** _I've thought of it yes. I would like to keep the plot fairly linear, as I pretty much know where I'll be going with all the subplots (with the chance to always augment my plans along the way). However, I think I can include something of that kind. I enjoy branching out the scope of the story._**

 _6) Are Tate and Fiddleford McGucket a threat to Gravity Falls and the Pines Family now with their own agendas?_

 ** _Tate doesn't care about anyone who stays out of his way unless they could prove useful. McGucket could prove seriously dangerous if he keeps digging where he shouldn't._**

 _7) Have you thought about how Wendy's family will react with her dating/sleeping with Dipper, who is a Pines and related to Stanford Pines, one the most dangerous people in town?_

 ** _I had not considered it until you brought it up. I will attempt to include something of that sort._**

 _Suggestions_

 _2) Possibly sold his soul or made a contract with someone for a Favor for restoring his body. Selling a soul is a bit much. A favor, though? It seems about right. Robbie wants his life to be perfect and normal. Not crazy religious normal, but just living an okay life with Tambry. It sort of shows how Robbie really think Tambry number one on his to do and please list. I just hope to find out answers as the story goes and who Robbie got this done by. My bet on Tate McGucket, because, he is a lot more dangerous than he seems and makes more than one investment._

 ** _All I can say is that after what he's experienced, nothing in the world could make Robbie make a deal with a demon._**

 _5) Please do. I hope that Agent Lockhart sheds some light of the Zodiac and that there this WORLD Conspiracy or Secret Organization that keeps the Zodiac a secret. Something that connects culture and religion that is Supernatural which could have dangerous consequences for everyone. This just seems right if the Zodiac connected all human culture together. Like mages, priest, and religious institutions connect together in each culture that is some weird and frightening._

 ** _Bill is in the center of the zodiac. And what cult have I not shown any of yet? ;)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Root of all evil**

* * *

 _"We raise predators by treating children as prey." ― Stefan Molyneux_

 _"Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops." – Cary Grant_

 **[0]**

 _"And now, award winning for his charity work…after ten years of rejecting the opportunity, Preston Norwood has finally agreed to speak at our business seminar. Everyone give a big round of applause to the CEO of Nave Industries and the thinker behind the Askov Robotics!"_

 _Striding out onto the stage, Preston thanked the woman and turned his smile to the audience. "Well…we certainly do have an awful lot of people in the audience tonight. So…who here wants to know how to get rich?"_

 _There was another cheer, this one louder than the first._

 _"Any gentlemen want to know how to get a smoking hot wife and a talented daughter?"_

 _A louder cheer arose._

 _"And who here…wants to know how to trample over every obstacle and reach the top of the pyramid without breaking a sweat?"_

 _Loudest cheer._

 _Preston beamed._

 _"Let me tell you a little story then…"_

 **[0]**

( _A week earlier_ )

Pacifica had hated herself from the moment that she crawled out of bed and forced herself to face the world. She had hated the make-up which she used to obscure last night's injuries. She had hated the top she put on, and the skirt which she slid into seamlessly. She had hated how throughout the school day, she'd avoided Mabel.

She hated how, when Mabel asked what was wrong the first time, Pacifica had seen the heartbreaking inside of the other girl. She wondered how many times the world had hammered it into Mabel, that she was the problem, not it. She hated herself as she pulled Mabel into a demanding kiss, desperate to feel anything but pained and violated for just a few seconds. So desperate, that she'd hurt Mabel's wrist in her eagerness.

She hated that Mabel forgave her and told her about her day as Wendy drove the three of them (Dipper in the passenger seat, sneaking glances at his redheaded friend). She hated that she'd been trained her entire life to be the perfect little actress, the beautiful dancer alone on the stage, but had been unable to keep it together while walking with Mabel towards The Shack and her ominous uncle.

She hated that the acting skills had kicked in after Mabel had helped her inside, and fixed her with those beautiful eyes, begging to know what was causing Pacifica distress.

"Curse. Ghost. I can't leave." She revealed, before falling into more heaves.

Mabel hushed her crying and wrapped her arms around Pacifica. She was aware of where all of Pacifica's sore spots could be located, which made the subject of her affection feel all the more sorrowful. But when more tears came to her eyes, it was because of how incredibly nice Mabel was to her. How a hug from her felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket, being enveloped by a pleasant breeze when you most needed comfort.

That moment, in her arms, she could think nothing but of to run away with Mabel. A fantasy yes, but a beautiful one, with glorious beaches and beautiful skies, where she could lean on Mabel's shoulder as they rode a bus cross-country. As they saw everything which she had ever wanted.

Pacifica had felt sexual attraction many times throughout her high school years, but she was quite sure, at this point, that this was love and she had not felt it once before. Her whole life she'd seen "love" and "marriage" as frauds, as fake and over-exaggerated as one of Stan Pines' exhibits. She had learned from watching her parents tolerate each other and fuck anyone who would accept the charge.

But she knew that if she and Mabel were married, she would not turn into her father, even if they were trapped in the same boring little town, even if they were alienated by their condition. She would do _anything_ but let Mabel grow bitter and repressed. And that must have been love, or at least, closest to the

"I can't help you if I don't have specifics."

Pacifica was snapped out of her wishful thinking by Dipper's voice. He was sitting in front of her, a notepad in his lap. He looked almost as disturbed as his sister had been, to see all of Pacifica's new injuries revealed.

Pacifica let out a sigh and, after glancing to the kitchen, where Stan watched from the doorway with a sour but pitying expression, she relayed the story which she'd memorized many times.

"My great, great grandfather did a lot of terrible things to this town when it was first being founded…he…he enraged a lot of people and…this one person who he had…murdered…became a ghost. The ghost cursed the entire family, we can't…me or my parents…we can't leave the valley because of the curse. If we try to, our flesh starts to…the inside of our body starts eating itself."

Dipper and Mabel, and even their uncle, all had to stop themselves from becoming disturbed by that one detail. Dipper cleared his throat.

"And your bruises?" He asked, able to detect some flaw in the story, some imperfection in the diction, most likely just from her eyes.

"The ghost inhabits my house. It's getting more and more powerful…and it…hurt me last night."

Dipper shared a look with Mabel, before reaching out and touching one of the only sections of her hand which wasn't swollen.

"We'll exercise the ghost. Tonight. It'll never hurt you again."

Some part of her had hoped he might admit his suspicions or at least not fall completely victim to the story.

She gave a dull nod, and Mabel returned to her side, promising that they had dealt with "psycho-ghosts" before and would make her home a safe one again. All Pacifica could think about, however, was Mabel's face when her father's plan came to fruition.

 **[0]**

After Mabel insisted on going home with Pacifica, the blonde told them both that tonight there would be another one of her mother's big parties and that her mother would pitch a fit if they weren't "properly" dressed.

So, as Mabel drove back with Pacifica, Stan dug up an old suit and offered it to his nephew. Dipper had just finished putting on the top half of the suit when a fist rapped on the downstairs bathroom door.

"I'll be out in a second!" He called as he inspected his reflection.

The door opened and Dipper's hands leaped to shield his boxers from view. "Hey! I-"  
Wendy pressed her lips against his, and closed the door, locking it and pressing her own body against his in the squalid space. In the light of the yellow bulb above him, he could just make out the jacket which she always wore to work at the grocery store.

"Relax, Dippingsauce…" She said as she broke the kiss and looked him up and down. "It's just me."

Dipper swallowed. "I uh, I need to get dressed. We're leaving in half an hour."

"Aw c'mon, I left work early to see you." She pouted. Her hand ran up his naked thigh. "Besides, your all dressed up. And…thirty minutes is long enough for me..." She admitted as he shivered at her cold hands.

She slid off her coat and her shorts in a couple simple movements. "C'mon, Sir Pines, you're not going to turn away a lady who's cold and wet, are you?"

Dipper responded by pressing her mouth against hers, and rubbing his knee up her inner thigh. She made a pleased noise into his mouth and grinned, her hands removing his shirt as he pressed her up against the locked door and trailed kisses from her mouth, down her throat.

Twenty-seven minutes, and forty-three seconds later, Stan called for Dipper, and the nearly naked boy promised his shuddering companion that they would conclude their "festivities" when he returned.

She grinned at him as, when he asked her to wish him luck on finishing buttoning his shirt. "You don't need it…" She assured after he gave a parting kiss and stepped out of the bathroom.

 **[0]**

Stan stopped the car in front of the Norwood Estate. It was immense. Dipper was rarely impressed by the scope and elegance of something, he considered such traits trivial. However, even he had to admit that the mansion and the grounds surrounding it were breath taking.

Now he knew why Pacifica had never offered to bring them to her house. Stan's cluttered two-floor house resembled an abandoned building if it were compared to the over-exquisite manor.

The spires of the gothic mansion scraped the stormy sky, while the great brick chimney loomed over the set of stairs leading to the ten feet tall oak doors. Gargoyles stood guard first at the gate and again beside the front doors (which resembled the entryway to a castle).

Stan licked the cold air of the sedan and switched off the air conditioning. In the friendly silence which followed, they all watched limos drive past the hedge maze and lagoon sized garden, parking right at the front steps.

There was a man at the gate, carrying a card which read "PINES."

"Are you two sure about this?" He asked, as his eyes darted to them.

While both of the twins had made sure to look presentable, to him, they were messes waiting to happen. Dipper was dressed in Stan's old tux (a couple sizes too big, making him look like a kid in a Halloween costume), while his sister was in a light pink halter and enough makeup to make her look like a girl at the prom, desperate for the teen romance to last forever.

Dipper was clearly in over his head, not in a supernatural sense, but in the same way that Stan had been when he banged a frat girl while still in high school. He was unemotionally equipped and worse yet, unmindful of that fact. The consequences this time around would be much worse.

His sister, on the other hand, looked just like Ford had after Stacey Minkins, captain of the cheerleaders, gave him a sweet smile and touched his shoulder before asking him for help with her geometry. She was star bound, practically glowing with love.

His throat went dry when he realized how much she reminded him of Carla if Carla had ever been able to afford a dress like the one Mabel was wearing. She was all dolled up and convinced that the person she was helping could change, could one day be a fantastic spouse and parent.

He didn't know what Mabel and Preston's daughter had done during the hour which Mabel had spent on the Norwood estate, before being driven back. But using his imagination caused his blood to boil and his heart to break.

Between the two of them, he wasn't sure who would be the first to fall, but he knew neither sight would be pretty.

"Of course." They replied in unison.

Stan sighed and unlocked the doors. "I'll be back around ten to pick you up." He claimed.

But the twins were already outside the car and waving to him, hurrying to join in the world of adults.

 **[0]**

The man waiting for Dipper and Mabel was apparently one of the many, many butlers which served the Norwood family. He remained silent and stoic as he led them through the garden.

Mabel coughed and moved to his side as they approached the staircase. "Umm, I'm sorry. What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't state my name." He said in the same disinterested tone with which he'd addressed them at first.

"Oh…"

Dipper gave the man the stink eye, and the servant surprised him with a chuckle. "It's alright Miss Pines, I was just having a bit of fun with you. My name is Jim."

She gave a forced giggle, before posing the question on the tip of her tongue. "Umm, Jim, how are your employers? Like…I mean, what are they like? Are they nasty or-"

"Are asking for my honest opinion, Miss Pines?" He asked, clearly considering the possibility of being fired.

"I promise I won't repeat a word you say to me."

The man's lips quirked at her enthusiasm and he gave his answer as he opened the door and basked the two of them in the warm glow of the party. "Eccentric."

Both Dipper and Mabel lost their breath. They had never been poor, and neither had expected something drab. But stepping inside the house felt like entering a different plane of existence.

A chandelier beamed light down on the front hall, which must have been twenty feet tall at its pinnacle. Statues and portraits dressed the pink marble walls. Butlers and maids moved from door to door, carrying refreshments and cleaning supplies. It occurred to Dipper, as he took the lavish carpet and hand carved doors in, that the hall was wide enough to park a car inside.

dress slunk up to them and gave them a relieved once over. As neither recognized her, they back away at the maniac smile which crossed their faces.

Everything, from the length of her nose to the straightness of her teeth, was perfect. She resembled Pacifica, the only difference being that her hair was a darker color, and Dipper would have considered her far more attractive than the platinum blonde, had it not been for the glassiness of her eyes.

 _Windows to the soul_ , he supposed, almost recoiling at the compliments which she was shedding all over him and his sister.

He didn't like receiving this kind of praise from a person he'd never met before. He understood why she might be desperate for him to help, but the shrillness of her attempts designated that something else, something not as innocent might be at play.

She resembled a lot of the art in the front hall, aesthetically pleasing but lacking emotion. And that crippled her compliments.

Without a word, she circled them and clamped her hands on their shoulders. Her fingers felt like iron and when she tugged them forward to continue with her sprawling gate, it was not in a friendly manner. It was with threatening strength.

She only ceased moving one they'd been brought into the ballroom, where the party had been assembled in terms of condiments, drinks, and party goers.

"WELCOME! EVERYONE, GIVE THESE TWO A HAND!" She yelled, her eyes focused on some spot on the wall as she addressed the various suits and dresses which had, up until this point, milled endlessly about on the well-polished marble floor.

Life jumped into the aristocrats at the sound of the command, and Dipper glanced at his twin's face as the room was filled with applause.

"That's right, I think it's safe to say that without these two, none of us would be here today!" The woman called, before finally dropping her hands from their shoulders and asking how the trip had been.

Mabel stuttered. "I uh, umm, well, we uh…it wasn't too far…"

"I'm talking about from California to here, sweetheart." The woman prompted, her smile nearly unraveling at the annoyance of Mabel's confusion.

"Oh. I sluh-slept almost all of the way." Mabel admitted with a small blush.

By now a little fed up with the woman and cloud of hazardous intentions which hung over her, Dipper prevented her from jumping into a discussion about how terrible the recent drought in southern California was.

"Excuse me," He asked with as much tempered frustration as he could manage. "Who are you?"

She guffawed and both twins bristled at the sound of her shrieking laughter. Snorting, she wiped her eyes and extended a hand, not to be shaken, but to be kissed. "I am Priscilla Angela Norwood! I'd assumed that my daughter would have told you about me by now."

Mabel vomited up a hollow chuckle. "Oh, she mentioned you, I juh-just assumed you would look older."

Priscilla beamed at the compliment and spoke her eyes mostly closed. "Oh, you really are a charmer. I can see why Pacifica took a liking to you."

Dipper coughed and shoved his hands into his pockets as he spoke. "Can you show me to the place where…you know…the curse is most prevalent?"

Suddenly somber, Priscilla nodded and clapped twice. A maid was almost immediately at her side and mumbling "Yes, ma'am?"

Jim hadn't been kidding. These people were intense. He could see where Pacifica received her dysfunction.

"Show Mr. Pines to the West Wing, please. And when you're done, fetch Preston." She leaned towards Mabel as she explained her last command. "He's been _dying_ to meet you."

 **[0]**

The maid kept her eyes on the floor as she led Dipper to the West Wing. She couldn't have been more than a couple years older than her charge, although she had a naturally youthful face. She was Latino, and he had no doubt that, judging from her hourglass figure and Tobias's gossip regarding Preston Norwood's sex life, she was given this job so that the creep might take advantage of her.

He hadn't seen the man of the household, but judging from what he'd heard, he wasn't looking forward to the encounter. According to Stan, Preston was a "psychopath." According to Susan, he was "one of the kindest souls" which she knew. When Dipper had once asked McGucket about him, the man had grown briefly sane.

"He's the biggest fish in the pond. He thinks that means something special, that his blood and his blood money will get him somewhere. But that's only because he's completely unaware that the folks who keep tossing food into the water, are fattening him up for their dining pleasure."

Dipper had not liked that encounter and had regretted his next question.

"And…you would be the fisher in that scenario?" He'd asked.

McGucket had only responded with a knowing smile and turned away.

He was shaken from his thoughts when a maid accidentally spilled something on a businessman. The maid with him paused, and watched as the man informed his offender that his suit "cost more than she did."

Dipper stuck out his foot as they passed, and smirked when the man tripped and fell face forward into a bucket. He screamed like an upset child when he righted himself, but by that time, they'd turned the corner.

In the corner of his eye, Dipper could see that the maid leading him was trying not to laugh. The teen sighed as their voyage drifted back into silence.

Dipper would have been fine with walking in silence beside her, he was accustomed to pretty girls ignoring his existence (which is what made Wendy's affection feel like a godsend). However, the house was immense, and after an awkward elevator ride and being led through a hall which was being remolded (and at least the ceiling was being repainted, perhaps to resemble the sixteenth chapel judging by the work done so far) Dipper found that they still had not reached their destination.

"So…can you tell me about…the stuff which you've seen happen inside the West Wing?" He asked as he glanced at the windows which they passed. The storm was getting worse.

"No, we are not allowed to talk about what we've seen. It's in our contract." She responded.

Dipper frowned. That did not bode well at all. If the Norwood's were anything like their guests, then they probably did not care too much about how dangerous it might be for their employees to be around the supernatural power which haunted the house.

She stopped in front of a large door, more extravagant than the ones he'd seen so far. Carved into the wood were little figures of hunters, dogs, trees, and foxes. A dragon had been engraved and grinned at him from the top of the doorway. A foot from the door, a dusty plaque read "GALLERY."

The maid made a cross in the air and opened the door with a pained expression. Dipper glanced at her, before stepping inside. He jumped when she closed the door behind him, causing a jarring sound to echo throughout the room.

The various animal heads on the walls, as well as the statues and blown glass displayed on the many white pedestals, began to shake and a low growling pervaded throughout the entire wing. Dipper gripped The Journal ever tighter in one hand, while his other gripped Gideon's Tome. Both were feeling heavier by the minute, just as his suit suddenly felt too tight. He inched towards the grand portrait at the end of the hall, depicting Nathanial Norwood the First, in all his sniggering glory.

Nathaniel was smiling and staring straight ahead, a rifle under one arm while his hand raised a cup of wine in salute of the painter. Behind him lay miles of untouched forest, soon to be torn down to make way for the cutting and the utilizing. As Dipper stared at the man, he felt something terrible sink into his heart. The darkness of the man's eyes, the sharpness of his chin, the way that he smiled.

If Dipper hadn't known better, he would have said that he was staring at the Devil himself.

The painting began to rattle, and in the picture, the trees began to sway. Dipper was no longer in the West Wing; he was falling through memory. Memories of burying your best friends under oaks, soon to be cut down. Memories of watching your co-workers become dragged off into the darkness by only God knows what.

All of it, all of the suffering and hatred spilling over him like a river touching a desert. And there stood Satan, smiling as they dug deeper and swung harder, laughing as they fell and as his little slice of the world grew a little bigger and then a little smaller. Smiling, laughing, even on his deathbed.

The windows in the next section of the gallery broke open and the wind which whistled inside provided a dry hiss.

 _"Leave."_ The wind insisted. _"Leave. Far, far away. Doesn't concern you. Aren't one of them."_

Dipper gripped Gideon's Tome ever stronger and his thoughts returned to how worn out Pacifica had looked just that morning. How defeated she'd been. He couldn't let her down.

"Reveal yourself!" He ordered, feeling the eyes of every painting and every mounted animal on him. "Reveal to me what keeps you trapped here and I promise I'll do whatever I can to relieve your suffering."

The window shudders slammed close. The paintings all fell down, filling the West Wing with a resounding crash. All except the one of Nathaniel.

That one began to peel, and bleed. And roaches scampered out from behind it, signaling the true nature of its owner.

 _"LEAVE."_ The wind insisted, despite having no business inside the house, as there were no other open windows.

"No," Dipper responded, his eyes focused on the painting.

Thunder cracked, and the roaches doubled in quantity. Every crease in the hall began seeping like a gaping wound. Dipper had to calm his own breath, and take each step as it came. He was getting flashbacks to his first encounter with ghosts.

His flashlight flickered out. The door to the next part of the gallery, and snapped off its hinges. Inside, the candles which adorned the corners of the room were all lit.

Dipper swallowed and stepped inside. "I know that you think this curse…is necessary…but it isn't. Pacifica isn't her grandfather, and…you are only driving her family to insanity by keeping them here."

The entire wing shook and Dipper dropped both of his books. Lightning flashed, and rats and roaches evacuated the room, squirming out in hordes from beneath the couch.

Each and every candle light turned to a bleak, gray-blue, and Dipper's blood went cold. Menacing laughter boomed from every corner as that same blue fire illuminated the hearth, and out from it, a charred and brittle voice called.

 _"FOOL…"_

Dipper's eyes widened as the blood which pooled on the carpet mixed with the swarming vermin. The stench of bodies, piled high filled the air and all the shadows in the room drew towards the fireplace, to form one, writhing black fiend.

And that was the moment when Dipper screamed.

 **[0]**

Preston was not at all like Mabel had expected. She had imagined him as some brooding businessman, obsessed with work. Especially given the rumors of how reclusive and successful he was.

Not the least in appearance, Preston had darker skin than Pacifica, jet black hair, and brown eyes. His nose was also different, and he had a nearly imperceptible English accent, which contrasted heavily with Pacifica's own "valley girl" one.

But in personality and habits, Pacifica was much more like her father than her mother. He spoke in the same diplomatic, charming way that she did when she needed to get someone to do something for her. He diverted attention with the same techniques and complimented almost the same things about Mabel that Pacifica had when they'd first run into one another.

There was one defining factor between their mannerisms, however. While Mabel considered Pacifica's charisma as part of her personality, she found that the blonde's father gave the vibe of a psychopath. The kind who shook hands with everybody and played with people's emotions for fun. The same type of person who was fantastic in the business world due to how cutthroat and focused they were.

Pacifica _was_ charming. Preston was trying to be.

His wife didn't seem that big of a fan of him either, as the moment he appeared, she walked off to talk to who Mabel thought was the mayor. It occurred to Mabel as she stood there, Preston talking about his own high school days, that no one else at the party, was anywhere near the Norwoods' level of financial clout.

Knowing the ties which the Norwood's had to the foundation of the town (something Pacifica had mentioned), it occurred to her that the entire set-up was a sick joke. Principal Horn and his wife, Sherriff Durland, his wife, and his daughters, and Mayor Bantam and his son were not really rich. But they had ties to keeping the town maintained.

Considering how small town families in mountain towns typically knew each other, they all must have been around for quite some time. Which would indicate that the Norwood's owed these people something...

If that was so, then Mabel felt a little disgusted. The Norwood's got to show off to a bunch of people who were desperate to experience success, and in exchange, they got to do whatever they wanted? She found herself surprised that Pacifica had turned out as well as she had, trapped in a town full of these people.

"Am I boring you?"

Preston's comment made her jump and before she could lie and assure him otherwise, he was chuckling.

"Well, I can certainly see why my daughter took such an interest in you." He said in a tone which lost of its attempt at generosity.

Mabel swallowed and found that there was something disturbingly captivating about his eyes. She was unsure if he was being sarcastic and saying she was not good enough or was downright worthless, or if he was insulting his daughter's taste, claiming she was attracted to airhead's. Either option was uncomfortable and sent her to the nightmare of facing the rigorous inspection of her date's father.

"Uh huh? And what would that be?" She asked, a little afraid of the answer.

Preston was about to answer, with a smile returned to his features. But then he closed his mouth and pointed. "Well, she can tell you herself."

Mabel turned in the direction he indicated and nearly dropped her cup of juice.

Down the ballroom grand staircase, Pacifica was coming. She was dressed in an emerald trumpet dress. A speckle of mascara had been applied, and her lips were red with the same cherry lipstick which Mabel had tasted when kissing her that morning and telling her it would all be okay.

She glanced around the room, a little embarrassed and unnerved by the attention, obviously. When her eyes found Mabel, however, the brunette raised a hand and waved so that she didn't look like a drooling idiot.

"I can see why you like her," Preston remarked as he watched his daughter try to navigate the crowd and make it to her actual friend.

Mabel tried to ignore him, even though the comment pierced. The conversation had taken a turn for the worst, but this current strain of conversation felt like the worst possible which could be held with your significant other's parents. Not to mention, she was sure that he would cease putting her through mental gymnastics when his daughter got within earshot of them.

She mentally cursed when Kennedy Durland stopped Pacifica to make some gossip.

"I'm not insulting you. As my wife likes to say 'there are no bad impulses, only bad times to enjoy them.' Although, I don't follow the New Age bullshit she's bought into, I am inclined to agree."

Mabel's mouth went dry. _Oh yeah, buddy? Well, my urge is to connect my fist with your jaw. Would this be the wrong time for that?_

"What I'm trying to puzzle out is why your brother isn't drooling all over her…most teenage boys would literally kill to get her attention."

An opening was created between the milling figures, and Mabel charged forward and stopped right in front of her and tried to focus on how great she looked.

"You look beautiful." She said with a glassy-eyed smile.

Pacifica blushed and then rolled her eyes. "Yeah well…thanks, I…" she stopped when she saw the worry panting behind Pacifica's features. "…hey…is everything…alright?"

Mabel took a step back, her shoulders burning with the knowledge that everyone was staring at her. She spoke in barely more than a whisper, although, with none of the same cadences.

"Your dad is weird."

Pacifica took one look at her grinning and less than sober father, before sighing. "Yeah, he…he's not normal."

Recognizing that she had struck on something deeper Mabel was about to apologize for bringing it up when she heard her brother's scream. The teens shared a glance, before rushing out of the room, Pacifica taking the lead and showing her companion the way to the elevator.

 **[0]**

Dipper was lifted five feet in the air and then flung to the floor, for the second time. He groaned and tried to crawl away from the mass of blackness which inched towards him and hissed like smoke.

 _"Stupid child."_

A strand of shadow wrapped around his wrist and flung him against the wall. He'd just been able to bring out the herbs which he needed for exorcism, in a little ceramic jar, and the jolt almost caused him to let go and allow the jar to smash against the floor.

 _"I have no patience for your kind."_

The black mass stabbed into Dipper, biting into his flesh and causing him to roll across the floor, kicking and biting back more agonized screams.

Gideon's Tome was inches from his finger. He pushed his elbow against the well-polished floorboards and grabbed it. The ghost tore back out of him and he heaved, blood dribbling out of his nose.

It obviously didn't want to kill him, just scare him. Which might have been confusing if it didn't feel so goddamn reliving.

Dipper grabbed The Journal, and, holding both books to his side, he dashed down the hall. The ghost roared after him, causing the various displays to rattle in their place, and for many to fall and smash against the floor.

As Dipper rattled against the gallery door, he could feel the electricity in the air as the poltergeist got closer. It began to open, just as his feet lost their grip on the floor and he was once again lifted into the air.

He dropped his books, in time for the doors to swing open, and he got a shaky look at his sister's face before he went into the chandelier and was knocked out cold.

 **[0]**

Mabel grabbed Dipper, while Pacifica grabbed the two books, and the dropped container of herbs. The poltergeist fixed its gaze on the ladder and screamed, its hissing voice scraping against the walls of the building and causing the plaster in the walls to crack.

 _"NORWOOD! LIAR! LIAR!"_

Pacifica shocked into petrification, had to be tugged by Mabel to move. And she did so just in time for the chandelier chain to snap and for the light source to swing forward and smash against the place she'd stood a second ago.

Both teenage girls bolted out of the gallery, and through the rest of the West Wing, followed by a gust of ash which formed into writhing faces and shrunken skulls as it followed them. Bookcases toppled, paintings were shredded, and cracks formed in the marble of the second-floor main hallway.

A business man, in the middle of giving a drunken toast to his "bitch of an ex", was interrupted when the darkness seeped into the room and all the lights flickered out. The ceiling began to shake as the rasps of the monster boomed throughout the area.

 _"BASTARDS! MYSGONISTS! WHORES! FIRESTARTERS! LIARS!_ LIARS ALL _!"_ The poltergeist called as it tossed books, trays, and paintings at its terrified victims.

For a brief moment, it turned silent and inspected each human in its vicinity. Then it screamed louder than ever before, loud enough that all the windows in the entire house, shattered, that all the electricity briefly turned off, and all the internet cut out in one deafening blow.

 ** _"LIARS ALL DIE!_** _"_

Then it began picking off the guests and employees one at a time, even tossing their unconscious bodies into one another. It slammed into the businessman, he went flying and writhed in the air for a couple seconds before being dropped like a chew toy.

By this time, Mabel was holding Dipper's still limp form with her left arm, while she pounded on the elevator button. The stairs were couple rooms down, at this point, too far for consideration.

The tiles which made up the hall began to shatter and the chips of their stone flung about as the specter grew louder and louder. Somewhere, behind all its rage, was a maddening laughter, which seeped into her skull as she pounded the button, unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of screeching voices which formed one conglomerate of sickening hatred.

Pacifica was saying something, but Mabel couldn't hear her. The phantom was too loud, its words to fascinating. The various white eyes which pulsated at the surface of its body were all focused on her. Well, they were spinning around wildly like a madman's eyes do in a movie when he's rolling about inside his cell.

But they were all rolling in a way which assured him that they were staring right at her. No, not at. Into.

The ghost which had possessed her, a little girl tricked and then murdered by a pedophile, had hated the world for robbing her of life, for forgetting about her. She had been one person, left with nothing but to fester with that emotion for an eternity.

This thing…was something much larger in scope and power.

"MABEL! STOP IT!" Pacifica ordered as she grabbed Mabel's hand and prevented the girl from hitting it against the pink and black marble wall any longer. Pacifica pressed the elevator button as gently as someone could while still panicked and the doors popped open.

Mabel glanced down at her right hand, which felt numb. Blood pooled around her ruined knuckles and seeped between her fingers as Pacifica dragged her inside. The blonde fell to her knees as the elevator doors closed just as the spirit charged at them.

Her eyes shut tighter when the elevator closed, leaving her trapped in the five by five area with a catatonic Dipper and a despondent Mabel.

 _I deserved this_ , was all she could think of, over and over again.

 **[0]**

 _"You see…" Preston explained as he explored the stage, always keeping the microphone close to his pursed lips. "…when I was a little boy, I faced a lot of hardship. My father was a very unforgiving man. And because of I felt accused…I indulged in wastes of money. Candy, TV, heh, later…wine and fancy cars. I wasted away the hours, just as I wasted away the family fortune."_

 _He stopped in his tracks and turned to face the left side of the audience. "But somewhere amidst all that…I realized that the world wasn't the messed up one. I was. I'd taken too much for granted. So what did I do? I paid off the family debt, and then…I_ doubled _our previous fortune."_

 _He grinned like a weasel at receiving praise for this._

 _"And the way that I doubled my fortune, is the same way that I got the gorgeous family which I have. It's the same way that everyone can achieve what I have. Doesn't matter your background, your gender, your disposition. It's a simple little trick…which I am going to teach you all tonight."_

 _Loudest applause yet._

 **[0]**

Dipper fell over and over between broken memories, his mind in frustration which fueled the phantom.

First, he was standing in the corner of a room, watching as a woman was raped by a man who would not stop laughing. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to leave the room but was rooted to the spot.

The same woman would later be confined to the estate as the laughing man stroked her baby and whispered madness in its ears.

Then he was standing the woods, watching as someone named Winston leaned over his comrade. His comrade who had just lost his left leg and was trying not to cry. Then he was watching as the comrade, with the stitched up arm, lost his home, as he was unable to work. One night he wandered off into the winter forest and his body wasn't recovered.

Nathaniel Norwood laughed.

The Fair Folk took a couple children after their favorite lake was drained to make way for the Norwood hedge-maze.

Nathaniel Norwood laughed.

The leader of the unions, Winston, was beaten to a pulp by four union busters, and then tied to a rock, and dropped in Lake Mortis. Lake Mortis, the lake that Nathaniel Norwood had named as a private joke, since the locals had no understanding of French and what "mortis" meant.

Oh, that one was worth multiple sessions of laughter.

Then the Trickster was murdering the miners who he'd sent deep, and he just kept on laughing. Quentin's hunting club turned into first a smoking club, where they discussed politics. Then into their very own white league, terrorizing whoever didn't comply with Norwood's empire. Gn'aak drove a woman to drown her son in the lake, sobbing about how the voices would not stop.

And no matter what, that bastard would not stop laughing. Even when they lowered his deformed and cancer-ridden body into the ground, Dipper could hear that same terrible laughter. Because Nathaniel the Second was there to burn someone's house down and play psychological games with his children.

And Nathaniel the Third was there to murder his brother and sexually abuse Preston Norwood.

And-

His eyes snapped open and he shivered, sweat pooling under his shirt as he stared at the rattling elevator doors. Mabel was murmuring to herself, while Pacifica was sobbing.

Dipper stood and stared at Pacifica, his heart sinking. He wanted to break down alongside her, to fall just as hard into hating how sickening all of it was. He had no doubt that the line of violence had somehow fallen all the way down to her, and every bone in his body wanted to offer sympathy.

But he never got his chance.

The elevator dropped and came to a staggering halt just before smashing into the floor of the shaft and killing them. The doors opened and closed, mashing together over and over in a way that, combined with Dipper's nausea from the memories he'd received and from being plummeted, made him want to vomit.

He didn't, however, instead taking Pacifica's hand and standing her up. He made sure that both she and Mabel had exited the elevator before attempting to shimmy between the volatile doors.

The basement was not as he'd expected at all, being damp and poorly lit, it was quite the opposite from the elegance which he'd witnessed above. The ceiling was low, and they had to ask Pacifica which way the stairs were, as there were not enough lights to show the path.

She responded in a cracked voice, understandably shaken. "Th-the st-stairs…that…they're over there…" She raised her hand and pointed in the necessary direction, her eyes still unfocused.

Mabel took her hand and together they marched through the darkness, Dipper taking the Journal and the Tome from both of them, and then wishing that, of all things, he'd have had the forethought to bring a flashlight so that he could read them in the dark.

The stairs were spiral, metal ones, which had rusty edges. There was, however, significantly better lighting.

"Alright…we need to get-"

Screaming came from above. It would seem that the poltergeist had not stayed put.

Dipper swallowed and ignored the urge to glance at his sister's and friend's faces for their reaction. Instead, he just repeated himself. "We need to get back up to the second floor."

"But the ghost isn't on the second floor anymore..." Mabel stated, a couple steps behind him, with her aching fist, held tight against the fabric of her dress.

"I know. But that thing isn't…it isn't part of the curse."

When they both gave him a confused frown, he sat down on one of the steps and flipped open The Journal. "That thing isn't a spirit…or…maybe it started with the spirit of one guy. But mostly…it's just frustration. Energy pent up which is nothing but what you're-" He locked Pacifica's gaze. "-ancestors felt from being trapped for so long. It's not part of the curse, the curse just made it possible. And then…it guarded the place where the curse is most powerful. Which would be that gallery…because it doesn't want the frustration to end. It wants people to pay…because it gets stronger with their suffering."

Mabel and Pacifica traded looks before the latter finally spoke with some of her old skepticism. "And…pray tell…how are we supposed to get past it and all the way up the stairs?"

Dipper took a deep breath. "I'm going to provide a distraction. And you two will need to do the spell to get rid of the curse. That should weaken if not destroy the poltergeist."

Mabel wanted to disagree, but she could tell that he wasn't going to allow one of them to come in contact with the phantom again.

"Fuh-Fine. But you're not just going to go 'nah-ny-nah-ny-nah-nah' right?" She asked with the pain in her hand now forgotten.

Dipper gave a cheesy smile. "I expected that you would have a little more faith in me than that."

 **[0]**

"HEY! YOU!"

The poltergeist turned away from rising a maid into the air. It hissed at seeing the intruder it had come just short of killing.

"YEAH! It's me! Remember me! The liar? Come and get me!" Dipper shouted.

The poltergeist bristled and dropped its prey, beginning to grow as it came closer. No longer a cloud, the create became a malformed body atop a black dust-devil, its whirling body sending detritus flinging up at its approach.

Dipper turned and ran like hell, his footsteps sending echoes which reached Mabel and Pacifica as they crept up the staircase. The poltergeist roared after him, and when one-half of the front door was torn from its hinges and flung to the side, neither could keep from shuddering.

Dipper pounded down the steps and leaped from the second to last into the muddy garden path. The poltergeist roared, flinging a gargoyle at him. He ducked and hopped the fence, disappearing into the hedge maze.

It tore after him, setting fire to the hedge and screeching as it flew high above to discern his location. It couldn't see him, however, as he was crouched beneath a bush. Angrier than ever, the being released a sonic boom which knocked over most of the hedge and sent Dipper rolling, hands on his ears.

Grinning, the poltergeist slammed into him and tossed him seven feet, waiting for him to cease toppling and sliding, before attacking again. It grabbed him by the ankle and began lifting him far, far above the ground, Dipper kicking, and swatting despite being unable to do any physical harm to the creature.

They were twelve feet up and counting when it recognized that its territory was being violated. It screeched again and flung Dipper to the side. He smashed into a tree, his forehead bruising on a branch before he fell and collapsed in the mud.

As he forced himself to move, he wished Mabel and Pacifica the best of luck and removed his cell phone to call Stan.

 **[0]**

The second floor was somehow worse than the ransacked ground floor, with chunks of the walls missing and small fires having been started. It was mostly abandoned, however, and the only obstacle which they faced was the amount of glass on the floor.

Pacifica had removed her heels when she heard Dipper's scream and had lost them somewhere along the way of fleeing from a being of pure hate.

Mabel gave Pacifica a little smile when they came to they came to the hall leading to the gallery. At first, Pacifica just frowned and was about to ask what was so funny, when the other girl scooped her up and began carrying her through the debris.

"Don't get used to this," Pacifica stated while trying not to blush at how strong and beautiful Mabel looked from this position.

"Does that mean I don't get to carry you down the aisle?" Mabel asked as thunder cracked outside and glass shattered beneath her slip-ons.

Pacifica turned completely red and Mabel giggled, reassuring her passenger as she let the other down in front of the gallery doors. "Relax, I'm just joking."

Pacifica shrugged. "I-uh…I knew that."

As they set up the candles around the center of the gallery (careful to avoid the fallen chandelier and the mess which it had created, Pacifica felt the urge, to tell the truth return. She could give Mabel a choice, to destroy the curse or dispel the poltergeist. Pacifica knew the spell to do the latter by memory, although, she needed someone of Mabel or Dipper's "kind" to help.

All the pain could be avoided. It wasn't too late to do the right thing.

There was a roar from downstairs. The poltergeist had most likely just finished its pursuit of Dipper.

"C'mon, sit down. It says that I need another person to help with the spell." Mabel said, trying to gauge what was wrong judging from Pacifica's features.

But then she would still be under threat, _he_ would still be able to get her. To drag her back here.

Pacifica nodded and sat down, legs crossed, eyes focused on Mabel's. "Alright…let's do this."

As Mabel recited the words and lit the candles in Dipper's backpack, one by one, the poltergeist began to shake the entire building, to the point where both were afraid the floor might open up beneath them. When it didn't, Mabel continued reciting the Latin words as best as she could.

The darkness began to set in, blowing out the candles. Pacifica worked desperately to light a match and light each candle. It felt like the air itself was being corrupted, the wave of darkness sinking in from each window and circling their throats. Whispers were filling the air, each more vicious than the last.

Mabel continued, almost complete with the chanting.

 _"You left me to suffer you little…cunt."_

Mabel looked up at the sound of Pacifica's voice but found that her partner was completely silent, staring at something over Mabel's shoulder. Behind the blonde, however, hovered a figure made of shadow, with only one gaping white eye and what looked like broken horns. It reminded her of a gorgon or a satyr but seemed too human for either label.

It spat at her, the only difference between its voice and Pacifica's, being the level of bitterness apparent. _"You knew about the scars and you did jack-shit. Never even bothered to ask, to try. You just played with your little pig cunt."_

Mabel's hands clenched against Gideon's Tome and she focused her eyes on the words. She finished reciting them, and aa green light began to fountain up from the center of the circle.

 _"You think I don't know how this will end for me? How did it end for Troy? How did it end for Gideon? DEAD. DEAD. MURDERED! Of course, of course, it would end that way! After all, you hang out with a couple crazy dykes."_

Mabel removed the pocket knife from the backpack with a shaking hand. The last part of the spell required blood from both parties involved.

She nicked her thumb and offered the knife to Pacifica.

 _"You'll leave the moment you have the chance. Knife to the back, knife to the throat."_

"Paz…please…you need to cut yourself and smudge your blood in the center." Mabel insisted, watching as the traumatized girl just quivered and grew paler with every second. Briefly, she wondered what the poltergeist was manifesting as behind her back.

"Please."

 _"Can't hear you! Can't hear you!"_ The spirit taunted. _"Tired of listening to all the lies which come gibbering out of your little fucking mouth. Wish they'd just medicate you already so I don't have to listen to your_ shit _."_

Mabel closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and poked Pacifica's hand with the knife. That got her attention and she watched as Mabel brushed her finger across the scratch a then smeared the blood over the floorboards.

The candles exploded. The green light turned white and began shredding the air. Literally, cutting through reality and piercing some invisible barrier.

Mabel covered her eyes for fear of blindness. When the light cleared, she dove forward and wrapped her arms around Pacifica, apologizing as the other girl stared into the corner of the room.

"You don't need to apologize for anything," Pacifica assured, a radiant smile crossing her features. "I'm free now. That's all that matters."

Except, it wasn't.

 **[0]**

 _"Lie."_

 _Preston allowed the word to sink in before he continued. "People view dishonesty as though it were a bad thing. But it isn't. In fact, it's what holds us all together." He let that sink in as well, before sneering. "Who here actually wants to go to their son's fifth-grade band recital? Huh? That's what I thought. No one. But he does it anyway so that he will appreciate us more. That's dishonesty, but it is_ necessary. _Without little white lies, well, we'd all be clawing and retching at one another." He stopped to point at a member of the audience. You get fired if you tell the consumer that actually, they are wrong, correct?"_

 _The audience member nodded._

 _"And your girlfriend would leave you what you told her what you really think about her, correct?"_

 _A more tentative nod this time._

 _"That's because people say that they_ want _honesty, but when they get it, they hate it. Trust me, deep inside, we're all preoccupied, keeping all of our dirty desires under wraps. We're all animals, but we pretend not to be. It's all lies, lies, lies, but that…is perfectly fine. Ignorance is bliss, remember, but knowledge…is power. If you want to get to the top, you have to claw your way there. You have to keep your enemies…and sometimes your friends…in the dark."_

 **[0]**

Preston was laughing when Dipper collapsed in the front hall. Mabel came to his side, inspecting his injuries and glaring at their host. Pacifica…stayed by her father, watching. Guests, the ones who had not originally fled, now milled past, some glancing at Preston and others ignoring him.

"What's so funny?" She asked Dipper leaned on her for support.

The man wiped his eye and when he turned to face them, she saw that there was the spark of something glimmering inside his eye. Pacifica gave him a begging look but he ignored her.

"I just find it ironic." He explained as he stepped closer, his hands clasped. "You spend all this time, trying to keep the demons from getting loose…and then you help me of all people."

Mabel frowned. "Wha-what?"

Preston feigned shock. "What? You haven't figured it out yet? Do I have to spell this out for you?"

When neither twin spoke, he sighed.

The remnant of the poltergeist tumbled out from above, slogging its way towards them. As soon as it got remotely close, Preston snapped his fingers. His left hand glowed and the darkness unraveled, becoming absorbed into his hand.

Dipper's eyes widened and, noticing this, Preston laughed harder than ever. "There you go, your brother understands."

Mabel glanced between the two of them, and then to Pacifica for clarification. Everything felt like it was falling apart right in front of her.

"What? What's going on? Did he…control that thing?" She asked, her gaze finally locking on Dipper.

Her twin shook his head and spoke in a defeated tone. "He has magic. He's got Bill's mark."

Preston smirked and stepped closer as his skin began to glow. "Not… _quite._ "

When Pacifica began glowing, Mabel turned her eyes to the blonde. "Paz, what's going on?"

Pacifica swallowed.

"Ah yes, your lovebird. Well, as much as I hate to say it, you did well dear." Preston admitted. He reached into his pocket and removed a credit card and some car keys. "There you go. Go wherever you want, I don't need you anymore."

When he dropped the objects to the floor, Pacifica squatted to pick them up and held them against her chest like someone might steal them otherwise.

Mabel began to shake. "WHAT. DID YOU. DO?" She demanded, as Pacifica avoiding meeting her gaze.

Priscilla joined her husband. "It's not what she did. It's what you two did for us." She turned her eyes to Preston's. "Honey, could you just tell them already, the joke is getting old."

Preston sighed and addressed Mabel. "Very well. My great grandfather was possessed by the same demon who gave you that mark on your hand. He raped a girl and killed her after she gave him the babies he wanted. And so, my family line has demon's blood. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to use the power which comes with that, because one oafish lumberjack cursed us. But that won't be a problem… _anymore._ "

Mabel was now truly shaking, her soaked brother completely calm and defeated by comparison.

Preston and Priscilla both smiled, the latter telling them to "kindly get the hell off our property, _now_." Pacifica just stared at them like a whipped puppy.

"C'mon," Dipper said as he removed his arm from Mabel's shoulder and turned towards the busted doorway. "Stan's here. It's time to go home."

He touched her shoulder but she did not respond, just seethe, wishing there was something she could do, to make them pay, to make sure that they weren't another problem which haunted her dreams.

"Mabel…we need to go."

Preston agreed with a stomach-turning expression. "Yes…please, be a good little girl do move along before I have to call the police."

Mabel's left hand had begun to itch.

She charged at Pacifica, stopping inches from her. "You… _you_...we could have helped you. We could have hidden you, we could have done whatever you wanted us to! AND YOU BETRAYED US!"

Her hand was now as hot as the tip of a poker left in the fire too long.

"I SAVED YOUR LIFE! DIPPER DID TOO! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US! WE LET YOU INTO OUR HOUSE! I TRUSTED YOU…I BEFRIENDED YOU AFTER YOU MOCKED CANDY. WELL, GUESS WHAT, CANDY MIGHT HAVE PROBLEMS, _BUT AT LEAST SHE ISN'T A FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!_ " She screamed, her voice more threatening as its pitch cracked and gave way into madness.

Dipper reached out, but his hand shot back when he discovered that his sister's skin felt scorching.

Mabel was no longer shaking with shock or dread. It was now with hatred. And Pacifica was no longer ashamed. She was downright terrified. Mabel ceased her shouting, instead speaking in a low, unnerving tone which caused the focus of her beratement to backward, afraid that Mabel might still have that pocket knife or hell, might even just strangle her on the floor in front of everyone.

"I kissed you, I let you tuh-tuh- _touch_ me. We should have fed you to the Trickster, I should have told the government guys that you knew more and then watched as they beat you to a _pulp_. I should have let the zombies eat you…I should have made a force field, to protect me…Brenda…and Candy…and then watched from inside it as they _tore you apart._ "

Pacifica felt wetness come to her eyes. "Please, Mabel, I didn't have a choi-"

 _"DON'T LIE TO ME!"_ The taller girl ordered, electricity sparking out of her hand and causing all the lights in the building to flicker. "You had a choice. Everyone has a choice; you just chose not to use yours. Gideon had a choice…even when he was starving, he could have put down the book of evil rituals at any point. Agent Gray had a choice…even when he thought his family was in danger. _I_ had a choice, about whether or not I wanted to murder somebody. And I made my choice and I lived with the _consequences_ , you know…like how a normal person is supposed to, instead of blaming everything and everyone else like a spoiled brat!"

Mabel raised her hand and Preston grabbed her wrist. He scowled. "You have five seconds to get out of my house, or I will personally-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Mabel commanded, unintentionally directing the power in her hand at him.

 _His face is hilarious_ , was the only thing Mabel could think of in the tragic split-second before she realized just what his stiff expression and static-charged hair implied.

Then, she could only watch.

The energy coursed through him and tossed him as far away from her as it possibly could (per her command), by flinging him to the end of the front hall. Flying at fifty miles an hour, his body landed with a crunch against the pink marble wall on the opposite side of the thirty-yard hall and his neck snapped.

He'd flown like the wind, but slid to the floor slowly and he left a trail of blood in his wake, staining the unchipped rock.

Mabel panted, staring at the second person in her life who she had killed. She stared at him for a very long time and then tilted her head just like he was doing. She let out a hollow giggle, before standing straight and turning away.

Her eyes turned to Pacifica and she spoke with her lips curled. "There. Now you're free. Now you've got all you could ever want…and you don't have to waste time pretending to like me…or Dipper…or _anybody_. No one can stand in your way the possibilities are endless!" She informed the shocked blonde, with a tone eerily similar to Bill's when he'd mocked Brenda for thinking of him as evil.

The brunette knew full well that Pacifica hated not just her father, but the entire idea of living the same lifestyle as her parents. She knew that Pacifica had been painfully lonely before she and Dipper came into her life (or, more accurately, she cut her way into theirs).

And since she wasn't planning on talking to the shorter girl for the rest of her life, her parting words, were a chance to twist the knife as much as she could before she had to cry herself to sleep, look herself in the mirror, and stitch up her own cuts the next morning.

Seeing that words were about to leave Pacifica's lips, that she was about to say something which would make Mabel forgive her and come crawling back, Mabel stopped her with the most threating words off the top of her head. "If I see you ever again, I'll make what I just did to your daddy look like a dream."

That shut her up.

Turning, her gaze, a mixture of growing guilt and exhaustion from feeling guilty, locked on Dipper's. He was, of course, even more, shocked than Pacifica was.

Mabel explained herself with as barely hidden uncertainty. "We-we couldn't leave him alive. Couldn't let him threaten us...he was too dangerous. I'm not going to take that risk."

Dipper didn't disagree. He just watched, horrified as his sister walked out into the rain. All of her cuts and bruises had been healed in that moment of magical release as a side effect of her powers. Apparently, Bill liked his worshippers to be in stable condition, so that they could serve him longer. That, or he'd taken a liking to Dipper's sister.

The bloodstains on her dress, however, had not disappeared and would most likely not wash off in the rain or the washing machine.

He cast one look at the smiling Priscilla and trembling Pacifica. Both looked relieved at what his twin had just done, although, the younger of the two clearly wanted to run after Mabel, but was too terrified to do so.

Dipper swallowed and followed his sister out.

When he got home, he stayed silent as Wendy checked his wounds. He fell asleep in her arms, and woke up an hour later, shivering from a dream about Mabel doing the same thing to him, which she'd done to Preston.

That time, he actually did break down. He told her everything. Well, not everything. He told her about Pacifica, the house, the dream, and what he'd done.

He didn't tell her that the moment he'd woken up, he'd heard Bill Cipher's voice in the back of his skull, cooing like a mother sparrow does to her baby birds ( _"There, there…")_. And, like any sane person would do, Dipper didn't mention that he hadn't minded that awful cooing too much.

 **[0]**

 _Preston watched as the demons which made up his audience guffaw. He gave a small bow before retreating backstage._

 _Bill was waiting for him, right next to his cell, holding the demon equivalent of a martini._ "Nice work, Pres. You turned out more useful than expected. ShootingStar needed that extra push towards insanity…and my army needed someone to give them stand-up."

 _Preston ignored him. "How much longer do I have to do this?" He asked, his stomach turning at being close to his great grandfather._

 _Bill snorted and then slurped the rest of his martini by opening up the maw behind his eye and sucking it up. Preston looked away and covered his eyes just in case. There was a reason that demon's mouths typically functioned as part of something else._

"Relax, Pres…" _Bill advised as he opened the cell door and wrapped one arm around his follower's neck and the other around his stomach._ "You'll be free as soon as ShootingStar's pig sprouts wings and floats up into the atmosphere."

 _Cackling, the demon shoved him into the room and locked the door, sighing with pleasure when Preston's screams began to fill the air._

 **[0]**

Mabel lay down on Dipper's bed the moment that they got home. She hadn't said a word the entire drive and wasn't planning to for the rest of her life. She didn't change her clothes or take a shower. She just lay there and clung to the pillow which still smelled like her brother as she silently wept into it.

* * *

 **Message:** _Setag ruoy no dna sesuoh ruoy fo semarfrood eht no meht etirw. Sdaeherof ruoy no meht dnib dna sdnah ruoy no slobmys sa meht eit. Pu teg uoy nehw dna nwod eil uoy nehw, daor eht gnola klaw uoy nehw dna emoh ta tis uoy nehw meht tuoba klat. Nerdlihc ruoy no meht sserpmI. Straeh ruoy no eb ot era yadot uoy evig I taht stnemdnammoc eseht. – The Bible, Deuteronomy 6:6-9_

 ** _I always found it creepy how easily Mabel used Gideon's amulet in "Hand that Rocks."_**

 ** _As a pacifist and a person who doesn't believe in hell (and despises the idea), I don't believe that child abusers should be murdered or rot for eternity. However, Preston made deals with demons. His soul belongs to them._**

 ** _Similarly, I mean no disrespect when using a Bible quote for the code. That verse just fit the episode's themes._**

 ** _Also, we already have a lot of people vying for control over Gravity Falls, and there wasn't really anywhere to go with his character from here. So, down he goes._**


	21. S2, E4: Fluid Shapes

**Episode 4: Fluid Flesh**

 _"Hunger knows no friend but its feeder." –_ **Aristophanes**

* * *

 _(June 15th, 1981, Serenity Falls, Oregon)_

 _Ford's boots slapped against the stone as he dropped from the seventeenth hole which they had encountered yet. Fiddleford called after him, disturbed by how quickly his partner was moving through the cavern system._

 _Ford didn't have time for recommendations, however, he was static to return to the ship. It always filled him with a nervous energy, the same inspiring kind which Bill always gave him whenever he graced his dreams._

 _It had been Fiddleford's idea, even though the father of two hated spelunking. He had wanted to know where Ford was getting the technology which he brought into their shop, and why it required so much money and time to retrieve._

 _Well, he was about to have his mind blown._

 _Ford helped the shorter scientist down and gestured towards the darkness. "It's just down this tunnel and then we'll be there."_

 _Fiddleford nodded, although, clearly freaked out by the idea. He had accepted the idea of the technology originating from beyond Earth only after Ford revealed more information to him. He still didn't know about Bill; which Ford thought was for the best. It was one thing to accept that there was life in the infinities of space, a concept not absurd considering their current project and some of Ford's old inventions._

 _It was different thing to accept that there were beings older than this universe, made out of energy, who preyed on mental energy ("Brilliance is what I eat!" Bill had explained in that happy-go-lucky way of his when he revealed himself not to be a childhood creation, but a living thinking being)._

 _As well, Bill was_ his _. His secret, his friend. And the self-described angel had explained that few people besides Ford could comprehend his true form._

 _Ford removed the gas mask from his bag and gestured for his partner to do likewise, before marching into the darkness. Fiddleford scrambled after him, no doubt afraid that the tunnels might contain some of the local legends which had begun to seep into his mind._

 _The two shared a look when they reached the glowing aqua light of The Ship, and Ford gave Fiddleford a concealed smile._

 _"And you thought it wasn't real." He stated smugly as Fiddleford found himself at a loss for words._

 _The ship, or rather, the bit of it sticking out of the ground, was surrounded by green-blue neon pools which Ford had discovered to contain less radiation than expected (about as much as a cellphone). The revealed bit sticking up out of the ground, extended fifty feet up, before being consumed into the dirt. By his estimates, the hundred ton, solid titanium structure, roughly larger than the abandoned Fair Mansion, was merely one sixth of the actual ship._

 _That should have made him feel small, made him feel like his species was inadequate by comparison to the craftsmanship of the race who crashed there. However, it actually just made him more invigorated._

 _He moved to the hatch which he'd been using to scout the ship through, and tore it open. No longer was he the weakling which Fiddleford had known in college, he had become very fit ever since moving to the strange town._

 _He stood aside and watched Fiddleford step inside, eyes wide. His expression was lit by the bioluminescent crystals which clung to the ceiling and walls of the ship, which illuminated the well-polished walls, now crusted with vines and rust. Ford gently closed the hatch behind them and found that Fiddleford was staring down the right-side hall, which led to whatever teleportation system they had created. Ford jerked a thumb in the direction of the engine, and Fiddleford followed reluctantly, if only to see what Ford had described as being the "most beautiful thing I've ever seen."_

 _It too, was encased so not to release radiation into the air. Ford was quite sure that all the soil would be infertile if the engine was not encased._

 _Ford took the lead, having by now marked the three turns required to reach the engine room. Fiddleford gasped when he saw the mess of disassembled flesh on the floor, having already been warned of the corpses (if they could be called that), but not having the stomach to prepare himself._

 _He jumped from disgust to fascination when he realized that the engine lay above, and illuminated this room as violet rather than indigo._

 _He too, found it beautiful. It was the ever expanding, ever retracting, energy of a utilized particle, magnified for the engineer's pleasure. It changed colors every few seconds, and Ford could see patterns in the energy which he knew did not exist, but comforted him all the same._

 _"Beautiful, isn't it?" He asked without looking away._

 _Fiddleford nodded, and then stammered something. When Ford turned to him, he discovered that the other man was observing the platform above with terrified and wide eyes._

 _"I'm sorry, what was it you were saying?" Ford asked._

 _"There was a noise." Fiddleford answered and pointed towards the platform._

 _Ford readied his gun and claiming that the noise was most likely a product of broken machinery or a lost bat trying to escape as he climbed the ramp which lead to the control panel above. Still, both were tense as they approached the product of their paranoia._

 _The control panel was massive, like everything else in the ship, designed for beings twice the height of the average man. After glancing at the shining panel which lay just out of reach, Ford gave Fiddleford an unexpected boost and asked him what he saw. The man squirmed for a second, off put by the suddenness of being grabbed and lifted. Then he spotted the source of the noise._

 _"Oh god Ford…it's alive…it…it's trying to escape?"_

 _Ford groaned and tried to steady himself. Fiddleford was only able to just glance over the top of the panel and had not grabbed the edge yet to steady them both._

 _"What is it?" Ford called up, his heart thudding at the prospect of facing an actual, living specimen._

 _"It is in some sort of…crystalline jar. It's almost see-through, and it's mostly slime… I think it's one of their young…Ford…we should get out of here."_

 _Ford shook his head. "Grab it. If it hasn't broken out yet, then it isn't going to all of a sudden."_

 _Fiddleford wanted to protest, but probably knew he would not be let back down until he grabbed the new specimen for Ford's ever growing collection of abnormalities. He gripped the jar with sweaty palms and Ford slowly lowered him to make sure that the specimen did not break free._

 _He smiled as he took the jar from Fiddleford (who was more than willing to rid himself of it). "Now…little fellah…" He said as he raised the jar to face the booming light of the engine, eyes widening at the movement of the creature. "…just what the hell are you?"_

 _As if to answer his question, the creature shook and then became an exact replica of the goggles he was wearing. Ford stifled a gasp and then turned towards his lab assistant, and insisted that they bring it to their laboratory, as if he was still a little boy holding the carcass of a horseshoe crab down on the beach and addressing his brother._

 _Fiddleford, was inclined to agree._

 **[0]**

Dipper's knuckles rapped lightly on the splintery door, and when he received no reply, he eased open the door.  
"Mabel? Are you alright? I just wanted to know if you wanted to come to the barbecue with me and Wen-"

He paused when he saw his sister, still sleeping despite the fact that it was four PM in the afternoon. He sighed and gently touched her shoulder. Her eyes flickered open, and her immediate expression, annoyance, caused him to jerk his hand away, as if he was touching something about to be red hot.

She sat up, not even having bothered to get into her pajama pants, she was in the same black sweat pants and being tee shirt from yesterday, and he realized that she had worn them all through school today. She had not put on a sweater since their visit to Norwood Estate. Neither had she said much. Her grades had not been damaged, and it wasn't as though she was despondent towards his and Stan's attempts to cheer her up.

But it was clear that there was something afflicting her, something which neither he nor Stan knew how to cure. Something which he was afraid they might never.

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to come with me and Wendy to her family cookout," Dipper explained when she gave him a questioning glare.

She had no doubt planned on spending the weekend (starting with this Friday afternoon), sleeping. Having read more about the symptoms of depression than the average teen, he knew that her lethargic attitude was about as unhealthy as how sleep deprived he became when stressed out.

Mabel blew a strand out of her pale face. She had not bothered to fix her hair since the party either.

"No thanks." She responded, before standing and moving to her wardrobe.

A little relieved that her tone sounded neither defeated nor aggravated, Dipper pressed the subject. "Why not? I mean ummm, Stan's out with McGucket…bar hopping I think. Heh. And I don't want you to be all alone here…no matter what."

She shook her head and gave a cheesy smile. "I won't be alone…" She scooped up Waddles, who had been snoozing at beside her and awoke with a startled grunt, before relaxing at her touch. "I've got this little angel."

If he didn't know better, Dipper would have said that the pig was actually terrified into silence.

"Listen," He responded, himself shaking when her distaste for the discussion showed as she placed Waddles on her bed and folded her clothes on it. "I just…it'll be fun. Wendy said that they'll have a pool table, and her brother loves crazy eights…and you can take Waddles if you want."

Mabel removed her cellphone and pressed it into his hands. "Dipper…check my text messages. Brenda's going to be here in half an hour to pick me up. Candy rented a cabin for us to stay for the weekend, one a couple towns over. I already told Stan."

Dipper frowned, the paranoid in him jumping up at the notion of being kept out of the loop. He managed to stop that paranoid, however. This was Mabel, she wouldn't lie to him. And Stan wasn't conspiring with his sister to strip him of any power in what decisions got made.

He smiled as he read the text from Candy and then handed the phone back to Mabel. He wanted to hug her, how happy he was that the paranoid had been wrong and that his twin was returning to normalcy (relatively speaking).

Instead, he apologized for bothering her ("No biggie, you're just looking out for me,"), and asked her to wish him good luck at impressing Wendy's father ("Beat him up, that's sure to get him on your side!").

Then he heard Wendy call, Wendy, the girl who was unraveling that paranoid a little more every day. Who was killing the cynic in him and making him feel things he didn't even know possible more each day.

He bid his sister farewell, did likewise for Waddles, and then headed down the stairs. When he saw his girlfriend, dressed in a skirt and blushing beautifully in embarrassment at being dressed in the opposite manner which she typically was, Dipper ran to her and pressed her up against the front door.

After a couple minutes of making out, Dipper called to Mabel, telling her to remember to lock up, before following his amazing partner down the stairs and into her truck.

He never once became aware that, after Mabel showered, applied deodorant, and re-dressed, she got back under the covers and tried to sob herself out of her slump, so that she did not ruin Candy and Brenda's weekend with her unshakable dread and regret.

 **[0]**

When she awoke from her nap, Mabel discovered that she was five minutes away from Candy's arrival. She wasn't sure how the shorter girl was affording this, how she got permission from her parents, or what incident had caused the other to turn what should have been a romantic getaway into a "let's cheer up the third wheel slumber party." But she knew better than to argue with Candy when she was determined.

She moved into the bathroom, inspecting herself as Waddles trotted in. She grinned down at him after applying lipstick and make-up, brushing aside the fact that Pacifica had taught her how to best use the make-up, and that every time she glanced at the toilet, she felt like vomiting.

In a few moments, her face was paler, her lips were pinker, and her cheeks were more flushed. Mabel's eyes were lightly enhanced, and her hair was in a ponytail. Her stomach felt an awful lot better, however.

"I look nice, don't I?" She asked the pig with a condescending smile.

The expression was used a lot in literature and TV, but Mabel swore that her heart actually skipped beat when she saw the pig smile back at her with malignant glee.

 _"Pretty as a pin-up."_ The pig replied, still smiling and still staring at her with eyes which were far too intelligent.

As it spoke, its mouth didn't move. But she knew it was Waddles speaking, because it was the same voice he'd used during those weeks that Dipper had been in a coma and she had begun to lose her mind.

Trying not to act like she felt betrayed by her pet speaking, Mabel willed herself to move and stepped over it. waddles remained silent, whatever intelligence behind his eyes no doubt keeping quiet so that she would blame her own sanity. She knew its game. It wanted her alive for now, it wanted her alive and kicking until it brought the blow down and finished its game.

And as long as she was alive, she might as well be hysterical. She'd known better than to tell anyone about the voice before, but now she had twice the longing to request help. Before, Waddles' words had always been comforting, in a strange, disorienting way. Now, they were spoken with sarcasm and perverse implication.

Mabel took one last look at the innocently blinking animal, before darting downstairs. When she bumped into Brenda, she nearly hugged the other girl. Instead, she calmed herself and pretended that everything was fine. Brenda knew better than to believe her smile, but Mabel knew that she would assume the act was put on to mask the scar which Pacifica had left, rather than to disguise her slow descent into irrationality.

She cast one last glance at the staircase, before following Brenda into the humid, hot air (weather conditions up here had the consistency of Mabel's mental state), and Mabel locked the door with some barely hidden desperation to entrap the demon upstairs.

"Don't you want to bring Waddles?" Brenda asked with surprise.

Mabel stuffed the key into her pocket as she replied. "Nah, he might wander off in the woods and get lost if I take him with us. Dipper and Stan will take great care of him."

Brenda wasn't prepared to argue and led her to the green compact car which Candy must have rented, Mabel glancing over her shoulder and trying to take deep breaths all the while.

 **[0]**

Dipper was greeted by Eddie and Emmet when he reached the little white gate between the dirt parking lot and the Corduroy household. Wendy had run out of the car the moment she saw her brothers, and scooped them up in both arms. It was at that moment, watching her laughing and cradling them both (despite their demands to be put down), that Dipper realized she would make a wonderful mother.

That observation came along with some very powerful implications, many of which he preferred not ot think about, since fatherhood felt like lightyears away. However, as he joked with Eddie and Emmet, secretely watching the oldest Corduory boy greet his girlfriend, Dipper decided that, despite his fears of traumatizing or losing his non-existent child, he could hold his own in a position of authority.

"Are you Wendy's new boyfriend?" Eddie asked. It was innocently said, but it set him off balance nonetheless.

Before Dipper could answer, Emmet corrected his brother in a high pitched tone which indicated that he had probably heard this joke in school and considered himself masterful for re-telling it. "You mean, _latest_ boyfriend."

Eddie frowned and told his older brother to shut up, before returning his eyes to the now uncomfortable and ashamedly worried Dipper. "So…are you?"

Dipper pursed his lips and nodded.

Emmet spoke up immediately. "Dad's going to break your arms."

Eddie told Emmet to shut up again, and this time, the taller redhead retaliate and shoved Eddie to the ground. Within seconds they were at each other's throats, and Dipper grabbed them each by the collar and separated them.

"Stop it, right now! Both of you." He commanded, glaring between their red faces. Eddie has a bloody nose.

"Now, both of you apologize." Dipper insisted.

Before either could refuse, a shadow was cast over all three of them. Dipper looked up from his crouching position and felt dwarfed.

Wendy's father was towering over them, his face a sneering mountaintop high above. He was dressed in jeans and a brown-orange button up, and was clearing unamused by his son's activity.

Dipper stood up. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have humored them if I knew they were going to be so violent."

Wendy's father snorted and ignored Dipper. He turned his disapproving eyes onto his sons, who were both cowering behind Dipper's legs. Bending to his knees, he scratched beneath his beard and gave them a lopsided scowl.

"Edward, come here." Wendy's father ordered, his dark emerald eyes reminding Dipper of the man he had seen drowned when The Poltergeist showed him all the terrible things which had created its existence.

Eddie shook, but, detecting the gentleness in his voice and still too young to respond with rebellion when caught in the act, moved to his father's side.

Wendy's father wiped the blood from Eddie's cheek with callous hands. A somber tone overcame his face, all the wrinkles apparent and the muscles less so.

"Go wash up."

Eddie did as commanded and disappeared into the house as fast as he could. He clearly didn't want to be around for when his brother faced his father's wrath.

Wendy's father stood to his full height and spoke with grim instruction. "Emmet, apologize to our guest."

Emmet cleared his throat before doing as commanded. "I'm sorry Mr. Pines. I shouldn't have acted like that in front of you."

Wendy's father pointed to the porch. "Go to your room and prepare yourself for the belt."

Emmet's eyes widened. "What? But Eddie started it! If he gets off without a scratch…so should I!"

Wendy's father only grew angrier by a decimal. "That's double the lashes. Now go to your room. _Now._ "

Emmet stuttered for words and Wendy's father looked about ready to chuck him across the lawn. The child gave in and nodded, before lowering his head, shuddering and moving past the confused Wendy and Danny.

Wendy's father watched his son retreat, before turning to face Dipper and offering a meaty hand. "Daniel Corduroy. You can call me Dan. I apologize for my son's behavior."

Dipper, both taken a back and a little sickened, took Dan's hand and tried to speak in a manner that didn't incriminate him as a spineless idiot. "Uh, Di-Dipper Pines, at your service, sir."

Dan nodded. "I know who you are."

Dipper frowned and was prepared to ask why, when Dan turned away and moved to Wendy's side. She looked distraught. A man of few words, Dan shared a few with his daughter before gesturing for his eldest son to follow him inside.

Dipper moved to Wendy's side and when he placed a hand on her shoulder, she just about jumped. "Is…is everything alight?" He asked as he searched her creased face.

Wendy shook her head and brushed off his hand. "My father's just a little…abrasive. Don't worry, he'll warm up to you."

With that hope offered, she took his hand and insisted on giving him the grand tour. Even as she posed funny anecdotes about the last family fishing trip which she had been part of, Dipper could not get the sense of unease which a home intruder must feel out of his head. He felt like he'd entered a bear's cave, and discovered it was even more intimidating than anticipated.

 **[0]**

Mabel watched the trees blur by from her position in the backseat of the car, the three-quarters to setting sun shedding orange light across the ocean which they passed, and causing the window to grow warm to the touch.

Candy was driving, with Brenda snoozing in the passenger seat. Mabel had spent the last two hours just thinking, just piecing it all together and reflecting. The hope was that, with the inclusion of consideration, she might fall upon some epiphany which made her situation feel better.

It wasn't helping, however.

"When did you know?" Candy asked, eyes locked on the road.

Mabel frowned. "What do you mean?"

Candy turned off the radio, which previously had been playing some local news/weather station. "When did you know that you…you know…felt attracted to girls?"

Mabel's frown deepened. She had never thought of this even being a topic someone might be interested in. Especially, since she didn't consider her "story" interesting, or telling.

"I don't." She replied, trying to figure out how she could get across what she wanted to convey.

"But…you and Pa-"

Mabel interrupted her before the name could get near being finished. "Yes, but only her. I never…I still don't feel anything for girls...except for her."

Mabel winced when she realized that she had let slip that she still thought about Pacifica. Well, it was only natural to think about the person who could be contributed with ruining your life. Candy knew that Mabel still thought about Pacifica because no one lost their feelings for someone that quickly.

What Candy, did not know (unless she'd recently gained telepathy) was that Mabel had spent every night in the past week, masturbating to thoughts of Pacifica and the various things which she wanted to do to her.

"I never did." Mabel continued, hoping that if she spilled the beans (as Candy clearly believed would be cathartic) she would not let anything else slip and allow those nightmarish moments of weakness return to memory (vividly). "I only…she is the one who made me feel that way. I knew that she was…different…from the moment I saw her. But I didn't know until…until she gave me that cream…tuh-tuh-to cover my scuh-scuh-scars…that I realized I-I luh-liked her."

Mabel swallowed and Candy cast a glance to her friend, before suggesting that they didn't have to talk about this if Mabel didn't want to.

Mabel shook her head. "I…I always imagined…as a little girl…getting married to some charming, handsome guy who…luh-loved me. And then…I realized that she…" She took a deep breath. "Pacifica…actually…loved me. And I thought I was going to get my happy ending after all. But I didn't realize until after she…luh-lied to me…that it wasn't love for me…it was obsession…and now I'm juh-juh-just like her…I can't stop thinking ah-about her and-and what I want to do to her and…cuh-cuh-Candy? I thuh-think that I'm suh-suh-sick."

Candy parked the car on the side of the road, and took a deep breath before launching into her own recounting of events. "I knew since I was a small child, it just never appealed to me to be a guy. But Pacifica was the first person who I…I _pursued._ I ah-asked her you know…I got up the courage to ask her if she would…duh-dance with me. She…she spat in my face and I…heh, I got beaten up pretty bad for that."

The way Candy said that last part, as if the bullying was natural and diffusing its effect with vacant humor was acceptable, felt almost worse in Mabel's mouth than the mental images of Candy being subject to attacks.

"And I…I don't blame you for getting tricked. What I did…taking those photos of Pacifica. That wasn't right. It was selfish and…twisted."

Mabel wiped her eyes and sniffled.

"But what she did to you. That was unacceptable. Brenda wanted to attack her when she first heard about it. I wanted to…do worse Mabel. There are people in this world…" Bitterness filtered through Candy's words and she closed her eyes. "There are people like me and you who have done…ambiguous, wrong things. And then there are people like her…people who can't do better. They…they find people like you Mabel…beautiful people, with good intentions, and they do their best…" Candy turned in her seat and met Mabel's eyes. "But they can never ruin you. You are too good for that and I don't want to hear you ever call yourself sick again. Understand?"

Mabel swallowed and realized in that moment, that Candy had a crush on her. It explained a lot, the original question, the shorter girl's demeanor. And the idea that Candy had invited her to the cabin, perhaps with some inner goal of getting drunk enough to concede to some kind of three-way, well, that was more flattering than offensive to her tender ego.

Mabel nodded and Candy returned to the wheel and Mabel wondered what it must have been like to watch her and Pacifica kiss, for Candy, when she felt attracted to them both. As she glanced back out the window, she wondered where the time had gone, and hoped that the distant clouds didn't forewarn the arrival of rain.

 **[0]**

"Mr. Pines, can you cut my steak?" Eddie asked, snapping his attention away from Wendy, who sat on the opposite side of the Corduroy dinner table, picking at her food and occasionally glancing at her stewing father.

 _At least he's eating_ , Dipper thought as he considered that none of the man's children seemed interested in the food which they'd been forced to bring inside from the barbecue due to the incoming rain.

"Sure thing," Dipper assured, eyes still on Wendy as he cut Eddie's steak into neat pieces.

Eddie smiled and drowned the meat in barbecue sauce as Dan wiped his mouth and focused his eyes on Dipper. "So…do you have a job?"

Dipper shook his head. "I help out a lot at my uncle's house," Mention of Stan appeared to have a negative influence on the red-bearded man. "But otherwise, I'm focusing on school right now."

Dan raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" He asked, the question mark feeling so much like a fish hook that Dipper just nodded instead of expanding on the thought.

"What is it that you are interested in?" Dan asked as he finished off his steak.

Dipper relaxed a little. "Journalism mostly."

Dan sniffed humorously and Dipper's demeanor dampened at recognizing the disapproval.

"Like those crooks on TV? Or in the dying paper industry?"

Wendy raised her head and yelled at her father. "Cut it out, dad! He never said that's what he's going to end up doing!"

Dipper swallowed and attempted to diffuse the situation. "I don't mean to brag suh-sir, but I think I have a fairly good uh, future ahead of me."

Dan's eyes narrowed. "I bet your uncle thought the same, didn't he?"

Dipper froze and Wendy stood up, commanding her brothers to leave the room. Danny was the only one who hesitated, and even then he moved quickly with a glare sent in his direction.

Apparently, they feared Wendy almost as much as they did their father.

When they were out of earshot, Wendy turned her glare on Dan. "Dad, I asked you beforehand if you were alright with Dipper coming over. You said yes. What the hell is the matter now?"

Dan stood up, his knuckles cracking against the table (which jolted with the application of his weight) as he spoke. "I thought you were friends. I didn't know that actually…you know…with _him_!"

Teenage defiance reared its head in Wendy and she pushed her chest out as she completed his sentence. "Having sex, dad? Was that what you meant? Fucking?"

This was a nightmare. Dipper could not imagine meeting Wendy's father reaching any worse conclusion then it just had.

Dan slammed his fist down on the table. "Watch your language, young lady! This is still my house and I won't have you cursing in it!"

Wendy sucked on the inside of her cheek as she responded. "Really? Don't you want to ask Dipper if I was his first? Maybe ask if we intend to settle down and have any kids after I'm done with college?"

Dipper jumped to his feet. "Please stop, I don't want you to-!"

Dan jerked his fuming sight in Dipper's direction. "Shut up, this doesn't concern you."

Wendy leaped between Dipper and her father, poking er fingers in his face as she spoke. "Oh really, because I'm pretty sure you asking him humiliating questions, concerns him!"

Dan snarled. "I don't know if this is some way to…get back at me…or if it's just a phase, but he is danger-!"

It was at that point Wendy lost her mind. "WHAT? WHAT?! DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT I MIGHT HAVE AN ACTUAL CONNECTION WITH HIM!? WELL? DID IT!? OR DID YOU JUST ASSUME THAT I'M STILL A CHILD AND CAN'T MAKE DECISIONS FOR MYSELF?" She screeched.

Dan remained silent, and Dipper touched Wendy's shoulder, his expression begging for her to stop before she said something which she couldn't take back.

But she wouldn't turn his way.

"OF ALL THE GUYS I'VE DATED, DIPPER, THE PERSON WHO HAS SAVED LIVES, WHO IS THE SMARTEST, MOST MATURE ONE OUT OF ALL OF THEM, HE'S THE ONE YOU DECIDE TO PICK ON?!"

Dan could not contain his response a moment longer. "HE IS A PINES, GWENDOLYN! They are worse than the Norwoods, they're fucking insane! And he's going to get you killed if you don't quit this nonsense with him, THIS INSTANT!"

"Oh really?" Wendy replied, Dipper gripping her shoulders with both hands and begging for her to turn away. She couldn't hear him, though; she was already diving into her comeback. "I didn't realize! What the hell did Stan ever do to you anyway, dad? Did he sell you some piece of junk? Did he steal your parking space?"

Dan answered with flame in his eyes. "HE'S THE REASON YOUR MOTHER IS DEAD!"

Dipper stopped his attempt to end the argument, his stomach dropping from an atmospheric height at the accusation. He wanted to break the sudden silence, to tell this angry bully of a man that his great uncle had done everything for family, with good intentions. He wanted to say that no, Stan wasn't normal, but he was more heroic on a daily basis then most people ever would be.

But he could not refute the claim that Stan had been involved in Wendy's mother's decision to commit suicide. Stan had labeled most of his actions as "bad things", assuring them that he hadn't burnt anything down or murdered anybody. But most other things were easy possibilities.

And Dipper could tell, from Wendy's breathing that she was panicked that Dan might be right, and she might have worked for weeks, for the man responsible for her mother's death.

Then she spat out her last say. "No, dad, _you_ are the reason. You are the one who wouldn't take mom to therapy. You are the one who refused to accept that she had a problem. You are the reason she's dead, _not_ Stan, and certainly not Dipper!"

Wendy grabbed Dipper's hand and marched him to the exit. Dan called something after them, informing Wendy that she was not welcome back. And she shot back something along the lines of "I hope you're happy."

Dipper wasn't really listening. His mind was on Wendy's expression, at the possibility that he'd failed terribly, that he was going to drag her down with him.

Then, in the front yard, with the rain pouring down, she broke into tears. Dipper's arms were around her in an instant, and he soothed her back as they walked to the van. Dipper drove them to a nice little spot where a nature trail began, and they sat there in silence, watching the droplets collect on the windshield and roll onto the hood.

"I'm sorry." She finally said, head still in hands.

Dipper reached over and fumbled for her left hand. When he finally gripped it, she looked up and he spoke, his numb eyes meeting her wet ones. "Don't be. He was being an asshole."

Wendy hiccupped and then offered a little smile. The smile faded and she moved onto him, pressing her lips to his and wrapping her hands around his neck. There wasn't the same playfulness as every other time, the same self-assurance.

Now the gesture of passion felt a little frantic and very confused. And that made Dipper wonder if she was trying to reassure him or herself, that no, he wasn't some phase.

"Dipper, what do you want to do?" She asked after they'd kissed a little more and she had retrieved the weed from the back of the van. She currently had a joint between her index and middle finger, and the stench collected above Dipper's slouching head.

He shrugged, eyes pinned on the fly which danced on the ceiling of the van.

"Seriously, anything that you want to do…we can do it. I'm not going to have this day ruined because of my dad."

He turned his eyes to her and raised an eyebrow in a manner which was more humorous then suggestive, but still frisky. "Anything?"

She nodded, a dull gleam behind her eyes.

Dipper returned his eyes to the ceiling of the van. "Well…there is this one place which I've been really wanting to visit…"

"Then let's go!" Wendy stated, her determination to salvage the night more admirable than the gesture itself. Dipper nodded and switched positions with Wendy, her driving them as he gave directions and puffed the joint.

He wanted to say something as they drove through the darkening town, but found that he couldn't summon the correct question or the correct words to phrase it with.

So, instead, he stayed quiet until they came stop at the end of a dirt road, the headlights illuminating the red and white sign which read "WARNING! KEEP OUT!" The sign hung on the locked metal doors of a moss-coated shed which looked half-way to falling over.

After sharing a look with Wendy, he grinned.

 **[0]**

Candy halted the sedan in front of the cabin, awakening Mabel, and causing Brenda to look up from playing with a pen.

"We are here!" She informed them with a crowd winning smile.

 **[0]**

Wendy had been essentially prepared for anything, with industrial bolt cutters and flashlights piled in the back of her van. Dipper applied the cutters to the chains which kept the doors from being opened and with a "CHINK" they broke and allowed entrance.

"Ladies first," Dipper informed as he made a sweeping gesture towards the inside of the shed with the hand in which he clutched his flashlight.

Smirking, Wendy climbed inside, gagged at the smell of mildew which immediately struck her. Dipper followed, coughing and wheeling a couple times before adjusting to the smell. The shed was bare except for the rusty metal hatch in the center of its concrete floor. It too was locked.

Opening that lock took less time than the last and exposed a narrow, copper ladder which burrowed deeper than the beams that their flashlights could reveal. This time, Dipper was the first to go, as he began descending the moment he could drop the bolt cutters down the hole.

"What is this place?" Wendy called after him, uncertain about the descent.

Dipper's voice echoed as he called up to her. "It's a bunker which Ford made to hold all his important findings. I located it the other night and I was waiting for someone to come with me."

Wendy frowned. "Are you sure it's safe down there?"

When Dipper answered, his voice was distant, and that distance made her feel like she had not dressed warmly enough for the cold, damp air.

"Any animals which he was keeping, would be long dead by now."

Wendy scrambled after him, her boots making clanking noises against the rungs as she called after her boyfriend and told him to slow down.

The hallway which they were dropped into, was even more overgrown than the area above. The walls were covered in vines, so much so, that Dipper almost couldn't make out the blue steel shell which circled the nine-foot-tall tunnel, from which the ladder dropped into. Their three-foot drop had been cushioned by the moss which formed a blanket disguising the floor, although, Dipper still made sure that Wendy had not sprained her ankle before he began inspecting the area.

As he pressed a hand against the lump of vines at chest height in the wall. As he tore back the vines, Wendy readied the gun which she had begun carrying on her person since Dipper had been kidnapped by the government agents.

"Wendy! Come look at this!"  
She turned and found that he was struggling to make what looked like a vault hatch open. It was coated in rust and she warned him not to get tetanus she approached, her vision illuminated solely by the blue-white beam of her flashlight.

"I won't, but it…I think it's…uggh! Stuck." Dipper commented as he put all his strength into pushing the door open, and, when faced with defeat, sighed.

He felt more than a little ashamed he was not strong enough to accomplish this simple act in front of her. Noticing his expression, Wendy placed her flashlight on the floor and returned her gun to her pocket.

"C'mon, let's try together?" She offered, as she placed her hands over his.

Smiling, he nodded and they both heaved against the metal. The hatch turned, first in jerky, unsteady movements, and then completely around twice, before a click came from the other side.

The door opened and they both took a step back, Wendy picking up her flashlight, while the door smacked against the wall.

A hiss came as cold air exited the room like a sudden breeze and Dipper shivered. Smiling, Wendy removed her coat and handed it to the protesting Dipper.

"Just take it." She suggested as he clutched his forearms and tried to prevent his teeth from chattering around.

Admitting defeat, Dipper slipped on the coat and grabbed the fallen bolt cutters before following Wendy into the next room. It was lined with two metal shelves, each holding three-foot long, cardboard boxes, which were duct taped shut.

Dipper removed one (labeled 2012-2014) with some difficulty and opened it with the cutters, to reveal around sixty cans of assorted beans and canned fruit. Wendy opened the next box (2015-2016) to reveal the same.

The boxes on the other shelf were labeled identically and were full of bottled water, much of which appeared to have been packaged at some point in the nineties.

After sharing a look, they returned the boxes to their places and moved to the next door. This one actually resembled a vault and had a number pad to input the code.

Wendy leaned against the cold door, eyes on the vents above them which flushed frigid air from whatever lay on the other side of the door and into this room as she spoke. "Any idea what the combo is, Agent Pines?"

Dipper chewed on his lip and took a moment. Then a number which had come up consistently in the codes of the Journal returned to mind and he punched it in.

 _._

He stepped back and grabbed the cutters, as if ready to attack whatever lay on the opposite side.

A light flickered on, showing off the dozens of pipes and tubes which filled the room and led down a distant hall. Blue bulbs had been installed in the walls, but the room was mostly illuminated by the computer which lay a level below them, and which cast a glow which poured from the window directly ahead, which illuminated the area.

Pools of purple chemical matter had collected along the edges of the grated pathway, and both teens were careful as they stepped into the room. The blue light of the bulbs and the green of the billboard size computer monitor reflected over the spills, and if Wendy didn't know better, she would say that there was blood mixed with some of the puddles and stained many of the walls.

There was a keypad on this side of the door, but someone had destroyed it. To make sure they didn't become locked down there, the two propped a couple crates between the door and the doorway.

A feminine, automated voice crackled over the speakers which dwelled in the corners of the dimly lit hall as they took a few steps inside, their freedom now assured. _"Wuh-wuh-wuh-welcome huh-huh-home, Stanford…and guh-guh-guest."_

Dipper and Wendy shared a look, before both grinning from ear to ear and rushing down the hall without a second thought.

Neither noticed that one of the chemical puddles was beginning to shudder. Neither could have been aware that they were just heated signatures in the vision of the creature which had spent the last thirty years believing its Father to be dead, alongside all other skin-bags. It believed that Father's bunker had worked as intended, protecting it from the inevitable entropy collapse.

Now, proved wrong, it transformed into a moth, and followed the investigating duo, with peaked curiosity.

 **[0]**

Mabel curled up on the couch, staring out the window to the left of the television set and the table it balanced upon. Brenda was chopping the logs behind the cabin, to make them a fire.

Candy sat down beside her and offered a cup of tea.

"Brenda really sprung for this…" Mabel commented as she blew across the black tea.

Candy shook her head. "I paid for this. That is why it is my car we take here…"

Mabel frowned. "I…did not know that you had a car."

"It is my father's car. My parents gave me the money to pay for our stay." Candy clarified as she sipped the hot tea, her eyes drifting past Mabel.

Mabel tried not to drop her mug. "Candy, why would they do that? They…they haven't trusted you with anything for as long as I've known you."

Candy swallowed. "Well, they…they hired somebody to follow me."

The rhythmic chopping from the backyard suddenly felt a little sickening.

"Me and Brenda…I threatened to tell the police, to…ruin their careers when I found out. They…promised they'd stop and offered me the use of the car and some money so that I could be independent like they wanted."

Mabel put down the mug on the coffee table. "Candy…I…I don't think that's healthy. I mean, if they can just… _buy_ their way out of doing that to you and…does Brenda even know?"  
Candy nodded.

"I just…I feel like they're manipulating you."

Candy swallowed. "Mabel…can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," Mabel responded as soon as the words left the shorter girl's mouth.

Candy was about to speak when the kitchen backdoor opened, and Brenda walked into the living room. She glanced between them before removing her baseball cap and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"You guys alright? What did I miss?"

The brunette tried to say it casually, but Mabel could tell there was an underlying hint of paranoia beneath it. Out of all of them, Brenda might have been the most traumatized by their encounters with the supernatural.

Then again, only Mabel, Dipper, and Brenda had ever met Bill.

Seeing that Candy clearly did not want to share the secret with her partner, Mabel coughed and launched into the first excuse which popped into her head. "We were trading camping stories…I was just telling Jae about the time that Dipper burnt his marshmallow black and then threw it at me."

Brenda smiled and began recalling her own anecdote as she piled the wood in the fireplace. "Oh yeah, I remember when my dad took me camping near Tennessee. We used to tie up our luggage and tie rocks to the other side of the rope. Then we would sling the whole thing over a branch, and the bears wouldn't be able to get to it."

The fondness in Brenda's voice was enough to ease Mabel's discomfort. Whatever it was that Candy was hiding, it was not and should not be her business.

"Oh? Did you guys ever cook marshmallows?" Mabel asked as she sipped her tea.

Being close to Pacifica had taught her a disturbing amount about lying and subversion.

"Totally! I brought a big bag of them for if we want to use the grate out back." Brenda replied, standing to retrieve the bags of newspaper by the back door, and kissing the deflated Candy on the head as she continued. "I was hoping we could all tell scary stories. I bet mine are the best!"

As the tallest girl stuffed the paper between the wood and lit the kindling with a match, Candy mouthed the words thank you, and Mabel cradled her mug, hoping that Dipper was having a better night then she was right now.

 **[0]**

The computer room was immense, as it had to make room for the ten-foot-wide, eight-foot-tall monitor. The screen was on when they reached it, apparently the whole bunker had been set up for the computer to turn on whenever someone input the correct code in the keypad.

Initially, Dipper was enamored with the computer, pressing buttons like a small child and taking in the low-res photos of cryogenic tubes and sketches of strange creatures. Then he noticed that there was a "database of paper files" just down the hall to his left.

He wished Wendy luck and rushed off in the direction of the physical information.

Frowning, Wendy moved to the computer and opened the "LAST INPUT" page, which brought her to a white screen with black text reading EXPERIMENT 210.

The screen flashed, and the automated voice crackled to life, hurting Wendy's ear. _"Accessing all footage regarding experiment #210…accessing…accessing…revealed."_

Wendy stared at the dozen videos displayed. She moved the cursor to the earliest and a low-quality video of a man, sitting at a metal table, holding a jar, and looking nervous.

 _"Hello…my name is Fiddleford McGucket…"_ The man said as the person holding the camera adjusted it. _"And I am being filmed by Stanford Pines. The date is September ninth, 1980, and today, we are going to display Experiment #210, who was found in the excavation of an abandoned craft, which we found several months ago…"  
_ Surprised that the young and somewhat handsome man was the stuttering mess of lunacy which she knew, Wendy winced as he cast a charming smile towards the camera and told Ford that "if this doesn't work, lunch is on you."

Then he unscrewed the jar, and dumped the contents, a smudge of yellow onto the table. At first look, the smudge was an octopus. Then she noticed that it had stalks, like an immense snow crab or a terrifying tarantula.

Removing a small baseball hat from beneath the table, McGucket cooed to the apparently shy creature, as he placed the bat on the table.

 _"Here you go, little buddy…go ahead…do your thing and I've got a cracker with your name on it."_ Fiddleford coaxed.

The mess of stalks and tentacles shuddered and then, it was gone. In its place, sat a baseball bat, identical to the first. Down to the last detail, do every splinter and infraction.

 _"IT WORKED! IT WORKED! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!"_ McGucket stated, jumping for j0y ad grinning at the camera man as he placed a cracker next to the left bat. It transformed back into the blob and absorbed the cracker with startling speed.

 _"Ford, we're going to be ri-"_

The clip cut off and Wendy felt a chill run down her spine. One of the men in that video was on his way to a recovery from dementia, while the other was dead. And experiment 210? God knew where that was.

She turned on the last clip, to see just how their plans had ended.

What she saw, made her want to run to Dipper's side and demand that they leave. The clip was nothing but distorted voices and a running shot of any empty cage and a trail of slime moving out of it and leading up to the doorway of the cell-like room. The same metal table lay in the center, but it was now tipped over.

 _"No! Don't touch him, he doesn't like to be touched-oh god…Abe! STOP IT! STOP IT NOW!"_

 _"AHH! GET IT OFF ME! PINES! GET IT OFF ME-AGH!"_

 _"Up the stairs, quick, up the stairs and to the door…nobody let it touch you…Abraham, it's time to go back in the tube…understand? It's time to go back to sleep…"_

In the last few frames of the video, before the feed cut out and flashed to static, a man with a cattle prod could be seen forcing a huge, yellow blob, back into the cage.

Wendy's eyes were torn from the final, chilling transmission when Dipper yelped. The sound jumped on her and made the gun in her pocket (and the ax at her belt), both feel like blessings.

"Dipper?" She called, the possible scenarios spinning inside of her head as she searched the darkness for his form.

He chuckled. "I'm fine…I just fell…there's a hole in the floor over here. Be careful."

Frowning, she raised her flashlight to the drifting smoke which obscured the darkness between herself and him. Twenty feet away, a deep gash in the floor, dropped six feet, leaving Dipper unable to climb up on his own. Lying behind him was some large, damaged canister.

Wendy placed her flashlight onto the floor and bent to one knee. She offered both of her hands. "How did you miss a hole this big?" She asked, unable to stifle her smirk.

"My flashlight malfunctioned." He answered on handing her the supposedly faulty device and then taking her hands.

She lifted him as far as possible, and he grabbed the floor to help himself up. They both shared a smile, and she was about to kiss him, reliving the stress of the musty, foreboding area, when in the corner of her eye, she identified the large metal canister which must have broken when the floor gave way under rot.

It was a cryogenic tube. A cracked, empty one.

It was at that point, that Wendy heard a skittering and then hissing sound behind her. She told Dipper to stay put and stalked in the direction of the sound, her gun in hand.

 **[0]**

Brenda and Mabel talked long into the night, with Candy heading to bed early. It occurred to Mabel that she and Brenda had not talked in quite a long time, as both of them had been busy with separate affairs. Mabel became more than a little tipsy by the time that the clock struck eleven, but she could still tell that Brenda was dancing around a couple subjects.

The first being why she had come to Gravity Falls. The second being Candy. And, from that Mabel could tell that the stronger girl had known from the beginning what Candy had been discussing with Mabel, but had chosen not to bring up the subject.

"Brenda," Mabel finally asked. "Is something wrong with you and Candy?"

The other girl shrugged and stood. She picked up the metal poker, stabbing the embers with it as she spoke. "I have my issues, she has hers. She doesn't want to talk about hers. I am respecting that."

Mabel licked her lips. "But…I mean…I think she wants to talk about it. It feels…important to her, she just doesn't know how."

Brenda sighed and collapsed on the couch. She put a hand to her head. "Mabel, I know…that it's not something I can avoid forever. But it's something I can live with for now."

Mabel searched her companion's face and turned away. There was love in those eyes, devotion and acceptance. But there was also guilt, and that acceptance could be attributed to a familiar relationship with manipulation.

Nodding, Mabel stood and removed her sleeping bag from the duffel bag she'd packed.

"Well, don't wait too long." She suggested as she opened the bag and crawled inside.

Brenda stayed up a little while to watch the fire.

 **[0]**

"Dipper…I think we should get out of here…" Wendy said as she reappeared from the darkness. The redhead had scanned every nook and crevice of the room for movement, while Dipper looked through the files.

"Alright. Let me just get these back in their box." Dipper replied as he riffled through the boxes of beige folders, trying to get all the important notes in one place.

Wendy turned towards him. "Dipper, we _need_ to go. There's something alive down here..."

"Alright, alright…I just need all of these together…they'll help with figuring out Bill's next move." He picked up a box and turned towards her, his eyes glinting in her flashlight. "We can go now."

Wendy nodded and turned towards the stairs, her right hand tight against her gun, while she aimed her flashlight with the other.

She swallowed. "Dipper, I think there was some kind of…shapeshifting alien down here."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it might be dead but…I was just hoping that you could be on the lookout for anything suspicious." She replied, her palm sweaty against the flashlight.

"Anything suspicious. Got it."

They were almost to the top of the stairs when a moan echoed from the back hall and reverberated throughout the control room.

Wendy froze.

Dipper glanced back towards the sound and then locked his eyes on hers. "That must be the shapeshifter. C'mon, let's go before it catches up."

Wendy removed the gun from her pocket. "It sounded like you. It sounded like Dipper."

Dipper nodded. "It must be trying to trick you. C'mon, we need to go…your letting it get in your head."

Wendy swallowed. "What's my middle name?"

Dipper frowned. "Wendy now isn't the time, we need to go!"

"What. Is. My. Middle name?" She asked, her gun pointed at Dipper's chest.

"Wendy, I know what you're thinking…but I'm not…" She turned off the safety. "…I'm not the shapeshifter. You never told me your middle name, though. Please, you have to believe me."

Wendy swallowed. Unfortunately, she didn't know if he was telling the truth.

"Fine. What was the passcode on the door?"

"1984!" Dipper replied with an easy smile, his hands first relaxing and then shooting back up above his head. "Wendy, please put down the gun."

Wendy lowered the gun and took a deep breath.

Dipper moved to her side. "Are you alright?"

Wendy nodded. "Let's just get outside."

Dipper nodded and climbed the stairs, Wendy, right behind him as she slid the gun into her coat.

As they walked past the chemical puddles and into the food storage room, Wendy offering to hold the box of files and Dipper refusing, the taller of the two asked if Dipper knew what happened to Ford after he built this place.

"Didn't Stan tell you? Uh, he died. One of Bill's cultists killed him."

Wendy's head bobbed up and down as she repeated the words "Stan" and "Bill", over and over again.

She removed her gun and placed it to his temple. "If Father is really dead, then I have no need for you."

Dipper's eyes widened and the box of files collided with the flood in a sickening "THOOM." He raised his hands again, and Wendy's smile extended wider than humanly possible.

 _"You really are as idiotic as Fiddleford. He thought I was his wife when he first let me out…stupid…stupid…stupid…"_

Dipper's eyes welled. "What…what did you do with Wendy?"

The Shapeshifter pointed towards the doorway. _"In there hotshot. You two can fornicate as much as you please, while you starve to death…just like Father tried to do to me."_

Dipper frowned as he backed into the doorway. "You have Wendy's gun, why not just kill us?"

The Shapeshifter morphed to become identical to Dipper and adjusted his hat. _"I'm saving bullets. If I couldn't escape this vault, then a couple teenage idiots aren't going to. Now stop asking questions…and_ get in there _."_

Dipper did as commanded and watched the door slam close in front of him. The Shapeshifter thanked him for the combination, before pressing in 1984 and locking him and Wendy underground.

He immediately ran towards the moaning, and discovered Wendy, her clothes torn, and her entire body quivering. She was coated with a thin layer of slime and unable to make more than unintelligible noises.

Dipper dragged her to the spicket in the room where there was no floor tiling, only dirt. He used the water to wipe the slime off of her, and she started breathing normally. He clutched her as she apologized for being caught off guard, and himself apologized for being fooled as he ran his hands through her hair and hoped that there was some way out of the bunker.

 **[0]**

Abe liked the feeling of the rain, running through its new hair, across his mimicked clothes. It took a moment to do a little twirl. It had expected that freedom would never come. When the last cryogenic tube shut down, it had been afraid that he would never be able to feed again, and would waste away as Father intended.

But now it was free…free as a bird.

It glanced at the van which was parked in front of the shed. Then, it smiled. With no effort, pushed the van all the way back up the hill, onto the highway. Then it pushed the vehicle off of the road and watched it burn.

It wasn't long before a trucker stopped right next to the wreck.

A man in overalls with a round beard dropped out of his car and ran over. "Kid, are you alright?"

Abe nodded. "Yes. My car crashed…I…I'm a little shaken…I need to get home."

The man patted Abe on the shoulder. A sign of human affection. It reminded Abe of Father and Fiddleford. That made it angry. This human would have to die.

It was hungry besides. The attempt at affection just gave it further motivation for feeding on him.

"Well, thank goodness your safe…I'll call the police."

Police. Sirens. Bars. No police, no authority. They would put it in a lab, feed it pigs and mice, instead of people. People were so much tastier. They would poke it, it would be worse than when Father and Fiddleford messed with it.

Abe smiled. "That would be for the best. Tell me first…what is the direction of _Stan Pines_?"

It didn't know who this impostor was if he had told the truth about Father being dead. But it was going to find out.

"You mean the charlatan? What do you want with him?"

Abe widened Dipper's eyes to look pathetic. "He's a friend of the family. My parents are currently unavailable."

"Well, he just lives down this road. If you follow the signs…you can't miss him. Say, is your head alright kid?"

Abe glanced back and forth, before giving its next meal an extra wide smile. "Right as rain."

 **[0]**

Abe knocked on the door of the Mystery Shack, and when the man who resembled Father saw it, he hugged it.

"Why did you answer your phone? Your sister and I were worried sick!"

Behind him was Fiddleford. Old Fiddleford. Still Fiddleford. Abe recognized by scent first, then sight.

And this man was not Father. This man was not Stanford Pines.

"I was attacked." It said in the most pathetic voice it could manage. "They…they killed, Wendy."

Stan broke the hug. "Wait, who? Who…was it Bill's people?"

Abe shook its head. "It was two doppelgangers…they looked just like me and Wendy. They were evil. They crashed Wendy's van and…" It caused some of its flesh to dribble down its face in a manner resembling tears to the human eye.

"…they killed her. They ate her and killed her. I fought them…but they were too strong. They killed a trucker too. I'm so sorry Stan…I wish…" Its voice cracked and Stan hugged it, while Fiddleford stared at the floor, most likely blaming himself for this.

"It's not your fault, kid. It's not your fault."

After that, they packed it a bag of human food and clothes, and Fiddleford offered to drive it to Dipper's sister, while Stan used his "connections" to find out what "these things" were.

Stan thanked him immensely. He obviously cared deeply about Dipper.

That meant he must be the weak brother who Father often talked about after intoxication.

Fiddleford was quiet most of the trip, and Abe took advantage of this.

"Fiddleford, do you think Mabel will cry a lot…about Wendy, I mean."

He frowned. "I expect so. You three have been quite tight and well, considering what she's recently gone through…I'd hate to be her at the moment."

Abe wondered what it would be like to be her. To assume her role. But it would have to fake Dipper's death. That was too much work.

Besides, it might be nice to feel what it was like to have a sibling, to have companionship. This "Mabel" might actually provide quite a lot of entertainment, if she was as sentimental as most humans were. And as long as it was gathering information like Father would want, then it might as well be entertained.

Even if she became annoying, Abe could always just kill her.

 **[0]**

Dipper wiped his mouth. Despite the humidity of the air down in the bunker, he still was becoming thirsty quicker than assumed. He had already removed his shirt and draped it over Wendy, along with her coat, to bring her warmth.

The slime which The Shapeshifter had covered her in, had apparently paralyzed her and lowered her body temperature. Her face was pressed against his stomach as she shivered and fought back more moans.

He had spent the last three hours searching for escape, to no avail. Now he just lay against the wall.

"Wendy…" He called out into the air, more than to the woman beside him.

"Yeh-yes?"

Dipper wrapped his arms around her chest. "I'm sorry. If we don't make it out of this…I'm sorry."

Wendy shook her head. "This was my idea."

"No. You wanted to cheer me up…I chose this place. I knew it might be dangerous." Dipper replied, beginning to feel a little weak.

Wendy remained silent for a long moment.

"Dipper?"

"Yes?"

Wendy shifted a little. "You love me, right?"

"More than anything."

The words came out crushed and engorged.

Wendy opened her eyes. "So…if it comes down to it…if I die first…"

Dipper tensed, able to see the destination of this train of thought.

"No. Wendy, I'd never-!"

"If you really love me…then you would. I can't help you if I'm dead…" Dipper looked away, but she continued talking. "…except as…food."

Watching the tears pool in his eyes, Wendy reached up and brushed her hand against his cheek. "It's alright. You're going to be alright, even if I'm not."

 **[0]**

Mabel embraced Dipper the second that she saw him. She knew how much Wendy meant to him, from the moment that they had met her.

To lose someone like that, in such a traumatic way…Mabel could only relate to that when she thought about how she felt, when Dipper had fallen into a coma.

As well, she had been terrified of what had happened to him, when she texted him around midnight (feeling particularly awful) and received no reply. She had told herself over and over that she was being paranoid, but considering how close to death he frequently got, Mabel wasn't sure there was such a thing.

It was when Stan confirmed that he had not returned home yet, that Mabel began to panic. A call to Wendy had been unsuccessful, and she had begun to wrack her brain for the last words which she had shared with Dipper. Hadn't they been a lie? Hadn't she insisted on not going with him and Wendy?

Wasn't this her fault?

That was the question which had consumed her until Stan confirmed that her twin was alive. Better yet, he had sent Dipper her way, so that she could be sure nothing would take him from her.

"I'm so sorry." She said as he remained silent, his hands gentle against her back.

"It's not your fault. It's mine." Dipper replied distantly.

McGucket entered behind him, placing down his bags, wishing her "Good luck" with his eyes, and turned away.

Mabel broke the embrace. "Why don't you sit down and tell me…what happened? I'm sure that it isn't your-"

Dipper re-embraced her, and Mabel felt herself being lifted far, far above the world. Into some grassy meadow, where the two of them knelt and inspected the bugs which crawled by. Dipper felt so warm, so comforting. She couldn't remember the last time being in his arms was this comforting.

Disgust grew in her stomach at the realization that his hug was bringing her solace, instead of the other way around.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. What's important is that your still alive." She told him as she ran a hand through his hair.

Candy and Brenda offered the bed, but Dipper shook his head, and Mabel recognized the look in his eyes. He wanted to be near her, in case he had another nightmare (something Wendy had mentioned to her, Mabel felt the full blow of the loss with that memory).

"He prefers sleeping bags." Mabel lied.

It was clear they didn't believe her, but neither was prepared to argue and they knew that the explanation was given to excuse some deeper one, something which Dipper was too drained to reveal himself.

They both retreated to the bed, no doubt exhausted from having been awoken in the middle of the night.

Mabel crouched down next to Dipper. "Dipper, I never want to hear you say that it's your fault someone died. Understood?"

He tried to protest, but she shook her head. "You always try the hardest that you can. And that's all that anyone can do."

This time he nodded, and rested his head against the couch cushion. "Thank you, Mabel." He murmured in a sleepy tone.

She smiled. "You are more than welcome."

 **[0]**

Dipper had a nightmare about waking up to find out that Wendy was dead, and being too weak to get her dead body off of him. He awoke gasping for air. Wendy had to calm him down enough to cease shaking, but he didn't fall back asleep.

Mabel dreamed about that meadow. About have always been there and always being there.

Abe didn't dream. He physically could not sleep, that's why he had to feed so many times.

Instead, he feigned sleep (he was good at feigning), and searched through Mabel's phone as she slept. She reminded it of Fiddleford, before he had gotten all dark in the face and nasty in his lectures. Before the _things_ had begun to whisper to in his ears and peripheral vision.

Stan didn't sleep. He spent all night searching the streets to no avail.

 **[0]**

Candy was frying eggs when Mabel awoke. She was also wearing Brenda's coat. Said owner of coat, kissed the shorter girl, before placing her plate on the kitchen counter and picking at it with a fork which had a bent prong.

Mabel found Dipper awake and reading one of the books which the cabin had provided. It was about the landscape of the area.

Dipper looked up and, on seeing her face, asked with more than a little concern. "We're quite far away from everyone else, aren't we?"

Mabel nodded and Brenda handed her a plate of eggs, before speaking as she cleaned her hands at the sink. "Would you guys like to take a walk after breakfast? There are a lot of scenic trails around here."

"I would love to." Mabel admitted.

From the screen door at the back of the kitchen, she could see that it was a beautiful day outside, and some fresh air felt like just the thing to clear her head.

Dipper, agreed.

 **[0]**

Stan stared at the dozens of the notes, his head on his knuckles. For the life of him, he could not figure out what was the cause of these "doppelgangers." There were no public records about them, and no one he asked had seen Dipper or Wendy.

As well, this crashed truck which the firefighter's had been forced to come put out, had to have something to do with all of this.

Sighing, he opened up his brother's notes, the ones which lay in the bottom right drawer of his desk, and flipped through them one more time. He stopped when his eye flickered over "The Shapeshifter."

 _One of a kind. Very manipulative. Can assume someone's personality without very much information about them. Feeds on human cognition, leaving behind husks. Class 4/5 threat if freed from my bunker._

A pounding came at his door, and Stan raised his head, before stuffing the scrap of faded paper into his suit pocket.

"We're closed." He called as he came to the front door.

It swung open, Agent Lockhart stepping inside. "Good. I'm not here to buy your crap."

Stan instantly had his gun out. "Get out of my house. _Now_."

Lockhart shook his head. "I'll leave as soon as you answer a couple questions of mine."

Stan grinned. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't shoot you, right now, for attacking my brother and kidnapping my cousin."

Lockhart shrugged. "I have a lot of resources at my disposal. I've taking a break from attacking you people. You clearly possess dangerous and unstable knowledge. For now, it's best to observe and record." He reached into his pocket. "Speaking of."

Stan turned off the safety. "I'm going to give you one last chance."

Lockhart opened his trench coat, revealing that he wasn't reaching for a gun, but instead removing a cellphone.

He turned it on, pressed a couple buttons, and then turned the screen towards Stan as the video began to play. "Care to explain this, Mr. Pines?"

Stan watched as black and white footage, of Dipper talking with a man in overalls, next to a truck played. Then Dipper turned into…something unimaginable. Stan watched in horror as the creature, resembling the sketch in his brother's notes, invaded the man through his orifices and shook his bloated body back and forth. When it crawled back out of him, the man lay on the ground, unwilling to move, let alone breath.

Then Dipper pushed the truck into the trees as if the weight was nothing, starting the blaze. He kicked the body of the trucker into said fire and then walked off, in the direction of the mystery shack.

Lockhart turned off the video. "We captured that…a full minute before your 'nephew' showed up at your door."

Stan raised his gaze and then licked his lips. "I know what's happened, and if you trust me…then you will get a very interesting specimen for that lab of yours."

Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "This had better be good Pines."

 **[0]**

Dipper craned over the control panel, his hands working furiously to repair the keypad on his side of the bunker door.

Wendy sat beside him, having regained most of her limb control by now, and only "lightly numb" by her account. The metal was cold against his fingers, and they danced back and forth as he visualized the wires which needed to be re-wired, repaired, and replaced.

They had broken open the computer and turned it into scrap to get those repairs, something which he might have regretted in a different situation. The computer had no doubt contained useful information.

However, the computer had failed to supply an alternative route out of the bunker, and as such, he had been given no choice. He pinched the fingers of the worn latex gloves heh ad discovered in the back, over a fried wire, and tore it from its socket, depositing it in the bucket which Wendy held.

Then he grabbed its replacement and slid the connector into the socket, before plugging the other side of the wire in. He moved to a red, frayed wire. Then a snapped, yellow one. Then a scorched blue one, and a couple tangled red ones.

It was around the seventh wire replaced, that Dipper realized that they did not have the correct wires to make sure that power was flowing into the keypad. As well, all the buttons had been fried by the explosion which the gunshot had caused.

He turned to Wendy and gave her a mournful look.

She sighed and lay back, her head resting against the frigid metal.

"Dipper?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes dimmed. "I still haven't told you everything. I…Stan hired me…"

"I know."

She turned towards him. "Wait…what?"

Dipper slid into a sitting position and stared back at her with no less love. "Stan had some kind of machine, right? And me and Mabel were going to help him repair it, by following the trail of the journal. You were supposed to protect us…up until a certain point. You couldn't bear to watch that happen to us…and you knew that Stan would track you down, if you tried to leave with us…so you ran."

Wendy leaned her head against his shoulder. "I should have known you'd figure that all out."

Dipper stared at his feet as he responded. "Yeah, well…Tobias helped."

A sound reverberated from the other side of the door, and both of them scrambled to their feet. They began yelling the password to the person on the other side, banging their fists against the door and hoping beyond hope that their noise carried over onto the other side of the great steel door.

Some buttons were pressed and both Dipper and Wendy scrambled to their feet, to find the person they least expected was standing over them, with a confused look on their face.

 **[0]**

Dipper appeared to be doing better. Every few minutes on their hike, he would stop to look at a new plant or a new bird. Strangely enough, those birds did not move when he reached out for them. Instead, they grew stunned, unwilling to move as he stroke their feathers and looked into their eyes.

He was also very quiet, only speaking once (and that time to a bird). He had said "There, there, pretty birdy."

Candy had stayed back at the cabin, while they hiked, so Mabel spent most of the time either watching Dipper's demeanor, or asking Brenda if she thought that he was doing better.

Dipper only moved from passiveness to alertness when they came across a ranger.

"Hey there!" She said as she finished moving a log from the path. She offered a hand, and Brenda took it, shaking it heartily as Dipper moved to Mabel's side, almost hiding himself from the ranger.

She had arctic blue eyes and dark red hair, with a smile that crinkle the skin around her eyes and showed off all her teeth. Brenda introduced herself, as well as them, and Mabel realized that Dipper might see Wendy in the ranger, given the physical similarities. She gave the woman a smile when Brenda gestured to them.

"Well, you all have a nice day. You should be careful, it's nice now, but we've got reports of snow latter in the week." The ranger informed as she returned to her golf-cart-like vehicle.  
"We'll be gone by Monday." Brenda informed with a smile.

Dipper watched the ranger go and licked his lips.

"You hungry? We should probably head back for lunch." Mabel said.

He nodded. "Lunch sounds nice."

Dipper didn't actually eat very much, but that was to be expected. He asked if he could be alone, and they all gave consent, Candy with vigor. She clearly wanted to share whatever it was that had been bothering her.

As soon as Dipper had closed the back door, Candy turned to Brenda.

"I…I have something important to tell you."

Brenda's face grew peaceful, standing up from the dining room table.

Candy took a shaky breath, before folding her hands over her stomach. "Brenda I…I…"

Mabel took the moment to stand and exit as quietly as possible from the front door. She watched for a moment, from the window as Candy broke down nad Brenda embraced her.

Then she turned away and sat down on the front steps. She hated that seeing someone else being happy now made her feel like shit. That seeing her friends having a (relatively) healthy relationship, made her hate Pacifica all the more.

"Mabel?"

She raised her head and terror filled her heart.

Pacifica stood over her, one arm pressing the string of her ivory leather purse.

 **[0]**

Ranger Kelly sat down in her office, and opened the drawer beneath the more noticeable one. She lit a couple candles, and held her cellphone to her ear as she clutched the idol of B'ylb'zfi'r, the Eye of Dreams.

 _"Report?"_ Asked her superior.

"They are at the cabin, and they are unaware of my worship towards B'yl." She replied, eyes locked on the photos of Mabel and Dipper which had been shared with her via the network of other cultists.

 _"Fantastic. Keep an eye on their activities…B'yl may contact them at some point."_

"I-" Kelly never got to finished her sentence, because the hand of Dipper Pines closed around her mouth, while the other one crushed the phone in her hand.

Then Abe proceeded to show her something more terrible then the visions which Bill Cipher had infected her with.

 **[0]**

Pacifica looked fantastic, better than ever. Her skin was twice as tan, and her teeth were twice as white. Her lips looked full and luscious, almost as full and healthy as her hips and breasts. That broken thing which had been hiding in her eyes from the moment that Mabel met her.

The sunshine gleaned off of her platinum blonde hair, making her look somewhat angelic.

Mabel had to grip the railing to get to her feet.

"Pa-Pa-Paz…luh-leave me alone…"

Pacifica shook her head, worry instantly crossing her perfect face. "Please, don't run away…I just want to apologize."

Mabel's fear was replaced by rage. _Apologize?_ She didn't think a moment longer. She just started shouting.

"Apologize? APOLOGIZE?!"

"Mabel, please just-!"

Mabel came right up to the blonde, Pacifca stumbling backwards to prevent being in throttling distance of her aangered ex-girlfreind. "My brother got the shit beat out of him, because of _you_. He could have ended up in a wheelchair, he could have ended up dead, and he risked it, _for you_."

Pacifica raised her hands. "I know and I-"

Mabel felt a familiar itch begin in her right hand. She didn't bother to silence it. "You-you used me…you could have asked, you could have done anything but what you did and-and…"

A distant woman's scream rang out and the rage fled from Mabel's face. She glanced around, and found that something was moving in the trees nearby.

Pacifica reached into her purse, and fished out a pistol. The kind that FBI agents use. "Mabel…what was that?"

Mabel couldn't speak, she could only worry that Dipper was in danger.

Her prayers were answered when Dipper ran out of the forest, his lip bloody and his face pale as he glanced over his shoulder every few feet. He stumbled and fell to his feet, at which point, he noticed the two of them.

"Mabel, Pacifica, we have to get inside! The…the doppelgangers are out there…they killed Ranger Nelly!"  
Mabel nodded and moved to take his hand. Pacifica stopped her.

"That isn't Dipper." She said, her gun still pointed at him.

Mabel snarled. "What are you talking about? I think I would know my own bro-"

"Dipper, is at the hospital with Wendy. I found them, this morning, locked underground. They said that a shapeshifter had locked them down there." Pacifica informed, her eyes not moving from Dipper's.

Dipper shook his head. "They must have been the dopplegangers…they must of tricked you…"

Pacifica held the gun taught. "Stop lying. Who and what are you?"

Mabel gripped Pacifica's arm. "What are you talking about? Why would they be down there? How did you even-!"

"I was following you, alright! I was following you and your brother because I'm obsessed with you Mabel…I saw Wendy and Dipper go underground, and only Dipper come back up. I didn't think anything of it until I saw Stan asking about the two of you."

Mabel yanked the gun from Pacifica's hand, causing the other girl to become hurt and frightened. "This is ridiculous, why wouldn't Stan call me and tell me?"

Pacifica answered as she locked eyes with Dipper, who was shakingly getting to his feet. "Because I didn't tell Stan. Dipper didn't want me to, he said that The Shapeshifter mgith be impersonating Stan."

Dipper removed his hat, and then his vest. "Smart kid. If only he had contained the decency to tell you not to come out here and warn his sister." He said, in a voice a few octaves lower then Dipper was able to manage.

Mabel's eyes widened. "Duh-Dipper?"

Dipper licked his lips. "Mabel, dear sister, just shove this ditz within arm range, and I'll take her out of your life forever. Hey! I'll even leave this country. Scouts honor, I'll feed on her…and then leave. You and your brother, your friends, you'll never have to worry about me, and I'll have the freedom I desire." He licked his lips with a forked tongue. "All you have to do is give me a meal for the road."

Mabel glanced between Not-Dipper and Pacifica. The former's eyes were now a translucent pink. Pacifica shook her head, begging Mabel silently not to do as the being commanded.

"C'mon Mabel, I'm not evil. I'm just hungry…and I will not have my freedom threatened by some teenagers. So please…do the thing which I know you've been dreaming of ever since she ruined your life… _and let me kill her._ "

Mabel fired. The bullet punctured The Shapeshifter in the chest, and it glanced down at the wound. He giggled, as instead of a stain of blood appearing, only a thin yellow slime began to stain his orange shirt.

Then, it morphed into Pacifica and gave Mabel a flirty wink. "You shouldn't have done that..."

Mabel fired again, and grabbed Pacifica's hand, dragging her into the house as The Shapeshifter stood and marched towards them. Candy and Brenda were at the door asking questions, but Mabel told them she would explain when the doors were bolted and reinforced.

The Shapeshifter, kept walking and punched the front door when it finally came to it. The result was that splinters were sent flying everywhere, but the couch prevented it from coming further inside.

 _"You girls need to stop being so hysteric."_ It called, in Pacifica's old haughty tone that informed them how stupid they were compared to it. _"I wouldn't need to do this if Mabel hadn't shot me and weakened me…now I need a meal."_

They all glanced towards Mabel, who was having trouble breathing.

 _"Now, she's a murderer, right? So, just send her out to me…I promise I won't kill her. I just need her for a little thing that my species does."_

Brenda grabbed her shotgun and ran to the front door. "Get the fuck out of here!" She commanded as she fired at the shapeshifting being.

It stepped out of range, pouting. _"Fine. I'll feed on your girlfriend instead."_

Brenda's eyes widened.

"I got it! I'll paralyze you…and then you can _watch_ as I feed on her!" The Shapeshifter muddled out, snapping its fingers at reaching this conclusion.

Brenda snapped. She tried to climb over the couch and take the creature on head first. Mabel, Candy, and Pacifica had to all grab her arms and prevent her from charging into the monster's grip.

The Shapeshifter locked eyes with Pacifica and transformed into the blonde's dead father (it had gotten his picture through some searches on Mabel's phone). "You should send her out, she clearly has the lowest IQ."

Pacifica froze and Brenda broke their grip, climbing out of the cabin and screaming as she charged.

The Shapeshifter grinned and Mabel's fingers on its right hand extended to be twice as long on its appendages. With these it gripped Brenda, squeezing the air out of her and then tearing the shotgun from her hands. It tossed the weapon to the side and its eyes became covered in that vague filament of pink and milky white as its (Mabel's) cheeks began to deflate and its jaw began to disappear, the skin hanging forward in a grotesque trunk.

 _"Not the one I was hoping for…"_ The Shapeshifter admitted as Brenda kicked. _"…but you'll do…"_

Mabel shot it in the head. Yellow goo oozed from the wound and it turned its eyes on her. It threw Brenda to the side, the porch railing breaking under the thrown girl's weight and causing her to strike the ground, and turned to Mabel.

It was then that Mabel understood why the creature had been able to give her such visions of comfort with Dipper. It emitted pheromones, probably the same that had goaded Brenda into placing herself in harm's way. Now it slunk towards her, its own lifeblood dribbling down its sun-deprived, see-through skin as its eyes began to consume all that she knew.

She could not have known that even as she stared at it, The Shapeshifter began to feed on her every want, her every memory, her tastes and smells, her sight and her hearing. It sucked the information out of her mind, one piece at a time.

Pacifica grabbed the gun and shot the monster again, this time in the eye. It screeched and charge at her, by now, only resembling Mabel in the clothes that it (appeared) to be wearing.

Great stalks sprouted from beneath it and it flicked Pacifica with one of these legs, sending her through the cabin window and causing the gun to fall lifelessly to the floor. It turned its vision back to Mabel. She was interesting, she had a damaged memory. But if it were repaired…it might contain more information, more possibility then it had ever experienced before.

Candy shot it in the leg with the shotgun.

The Shapeshifter toppled, knocking over the railing, and then transforming into a rabbit, to hop into the forest and out of sight. It whimpers sounded terrible and foreboding, like a ship creaking under an arriving storm.

Candy did her best to get Brenda to her feet, while Mabel checked on Pacifica. The blonde had blood oozing from her head, due to the glass having cut a long blow down the side of her skull.

She quickly retrieved the first aid and told Pacifica to remain still as she bandaged the wound.

Pacifica swallowed and winced as Mabel stitched up the wound. "Thank you. For…for not turning me over…when it would have been easy."

"Just because I hate you, doesn't mean that I think you deserve to die." Mabel responded, as Brenda climbed inside and collapsed on the floor.

Pacifica nodded. "I know but…I'm not sure anyone in my life would make that kind of sacrifice, putting themselves and their friends in danger to save me."

Mabel let out a long breath. "Don't thank me just yet, we're not out of the woods yet."

 **[0]**

Dipper sat beside Wendy's bed, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

 _"Boy, you sure are into this infatuation thing, aren't you?"_

Dipper nearly fell out of his chair at the familiar voice and Bill cackled.

 _"Relax PineTree. Don't you think if I sought you and your fuckbuddy to be corpses, you'd be brutalized and nailed to the town welcome sign by now?"_ Bill questioned, his eye briefly glowing blue at the morbid image.

Dipper staggered to his feet, having trouble with approaching the mood swinging demon, as the entire room had begun to warp. He couldn't tell if he was standing on the ceiling, and Bill was upright, or the other way around. The light filtering in through the window had grown purple and then floor had become treacherous.

"Sta-sta-stay away from us! Leave us alone!" Dipper ordered, trying not to show how utterly terrified he was that Bill was about to take Wendy from him.

Bill raised his hands. _"Calm yourself, I just arrived to propose a deal."_

"I'd never…ever…take a deal with you. You…you…you've been torturing me…with all those dreams about Mabel."

Bill shook his head. _"That wasn't me, PineTree. Those visions were your anxiety, not my instigation. Anyway, I promise to keep you and Red thriving and secure, in exchange for a favor."_

"No! Why would I do that? You…you're a monster! You put me in a comma, you tried to kill my uncle!"

Bill leaned on his cane and the light turned from purple to aqua. _"I didn't make you go catatonic, PineTree. That was Gideon, I was the one who woke you up."_

Dipper wanted to refute this suggestion, but realized that he had no proof as to contrary what Bill described. Why would Bill put him in a coma in the first place, only to make a deal immediately after to get him out?

 _"And yes, I tried to make your uncle shoot himself…but that was only because if his machine ever started working, the entropy levels would go through the roof, and I wouldn't be able to have fun with you guys if you all turned into golden ice cream cones. If you knew what I do about him, you would want him dead as well."_

Dipper covered his eyes as Bill began to glow to the point of inducing a migraine.

 _"I want you and your sister alive and in a good condition…but if you think you can handle Old Abe without my help…do as you please."_

With that last suggestion, Bill warped out of the world and Dipper's eyes jumped open. He discovered that Stan was shaking him and telling him that he needed to go home with McGucket while he watched over Wendy.

"What…what about Mabel?" Dipper asked as he rubbed his eyes, remembering that Pacifica had insisted on driving to where Mabel was to warn her.

"Don't worry kid, I have someone on it.

 **[0]**

Once they discovered that Candy's father's car had been sabotaged by The Shapeshifter, they tried the park office, and discovered that there was no answer.

 _"Just, stay where you are."_ Stan insisted as Mabel stared out the kitchen window, the dining room table pressed against the back door to prevent the Shapeshifter from getting inside so quickly from that position.

 _"I've got people headed your way to help."_

Mabel swallowed. "Stan, when are they going to get here because-!"

WHACK!

The hatchet which had been used to cut logs, embedded itself in the back door.

WHACK!

Mabel dropped her phone and ran to the side of the others. Brenda lay against the wall, while Candy had handed over the shotgun to Pacifica (since she actually knew how to shoot). The pistol which Mabel had held, was out of ammo.

Mabel picked up a large splinter of wood, raised towards the slam of the ax against the door.

WHACK! WHACK!

The attack doubled in speed, and The Shapeshifter laughed as the door and the wooden table began to fall into bits.

 _"Negotiation times are out…"_ The Shapeshifter spoke as it lurched inside, resembling Wendy only in the basic details. Otherwise, it was pale, a bit too tall, and a bit too thin.

Its eyes were red and its lips were practically nonexistent. Apparently, its injuries had weakened its abilities. It staggered towards them, laughing as it moved in a zig-zag fashion and swung its hatchet back and forth in front of it.

Pacifica aimed, and The Shapeshifter's hand lurched out, striking her chin and sending her out the window. The eleven-foot-long arm swung and slapped Candy to the floor. Brenda charged it, and it slapped her upside the head with the ax. She collapsed onto the floor, as it turned its red eyes onto Mabel.

She huddled into the corner of the room, her shard of wood poised towards its stomach area. It giggled and threw the ax. It embedded Mabel's hair against the wall, and The Shapeshifter gave her a hungry look, before turning towards Brenda.

It had discovered in the few seconds it had been given to feed on her, that she had much greater knowledge than anticipated. She didn't have those blank spots like Mabel, but she was connected to something much, much larger. Something which knew more than all the human beings in the world, put together.

Its wounds were healed as it began to devour her mind, piece by piece, her screaming all the way as its true, crustacean-like face was revealed to her. She began to resist and it covered her in paralyzing slime, refusing to lose another meal.

"NOW! SHOOT NOW!"

Darts and tasers struck Abe, and its mind was fried, as the tranquilizing solution filled its veins. It shook, and then collapsed, nearly suffocating the paralyzed Brenda.

A team of men, in hazmat suits, carrying the tranquilizer guns, ran onto the scene. It took six of them to hall the monster onto the van, as Agent Lockhart called Command and informed them of how successful they were. He then noticed the utterly terrified Mabel, and removed the hatchet from the wall, confiscating it as evidence.

He gestured to the injured teenage girls and commanded half of his forces to take them to the nearest hospital. Then he called Stan Pines and assured him that no one (he knew of) had died and that the monster was in custody.

It's a shame that the SBE had not used quite enough tranquilizer to prevent the monster they had just captured, from breaking out of its transport truck thirty minutes later and consuming the entire team responsible for carrying it…

 ** _To be continued…_**

* * *

 **Message** : **Deirub niamer dluohs sgniht emos.**

 ** _Comments_** :

 **IsmaelParica** :

 _Okay, I'm gonna ignore the fact that Dipper's about to have the huge breakdown (or time to shine) my gut is telling me he'll have, only to say that I'm not surprised of Preston's death nor Mabel's "each-time-shorter" path to insanity and madness (which personally, I think is the good stuff, if you know what I mean)._

 _Do you know what surprises me? That Mabel still hasn't paid the price (yes, the agonizing and terrifying price which makes my inner self dance in joy), I wonder... what will it be? Or even better, who?_

 ** _If Bill just wanted someone killed, he would have one of his many, many servants do it for him. What he wants from Mabel is much, much more important._**

 ** _Blind-Eyephone:_**

 _Anyway, I have um, one request, although I know that it probably won't make an differences lol.  
I'm well aware Bill's comforting to Dipper was likely just Bill being the sick fuck he is, but please oh please don't add Billdip if that's what was really being implied  
I can read any ship but that right there would kill me lol  
Anyway, I love this a lot, and I don't think some crappy review can suffice, but it's the best I got lol.  
This fanfiction has gone as far as making me wish this was a live action TV show.  
Child actors are often not good, but I think children characters are honestly the most interesting, and it's so disappointing how many shows lack a main cast of kids in a dark environment.  
I'm getting off topic, ha-ha, just so many thoughts going through my head  
Please update soon.  
The suspense is killing me. X3_

 ** _Bill doesn't feel sexual attraction to any human beings, it's physically impossible for him. It would be like a human being attracted to an ant. Instead, he sees humans as being playthings, and thus, only shows himself to those he finds interesting._**

 ** _I wish there were more dark shows with kids. I loved "Stranger Things."_**

 ** _Coldblue:_**

 _Questions_

 _1) Should we expect some Pinecest in "Depravity Falls" if anything goes in this story and pairings could change? Any WARNINGS we should expect in future chapter for other readers to take notice?_

 ** _There is a warning in the story description and a warning on the first chapter. Also this story is rated M, so…I think that's enough warning. People should know what they are in for._**

 _2) Does Bill Cipher want to brand Dipper Pines with his Demonic Brand next? What will Bill Cipher plan with Dipper and Mable that are so important to him?_

 ** _This chapter should answer that first question of yours._**

 _4) What going on with Dipper and Mable parents? Any hints if there dead, alive or just sort of left their kids and separated from each other to pursue their own goals?_

 ** _There will be more hints, although, I've already left many._**

 _6) What your plan for Dipper and Mable Pines at the end of Epilogue of "Depravity Falls" for job wise? Would Dipper and Mable take over the Mystery Shack and pursue their own goals of high education or business?_

 ** _Correct me if I'm wrong, but did I ever say there would necessarily be an epilogue? Maybe don't get your hopes up._**

 _7) Is there a chance Pacifica Norwood will redeem herself still or is she done in this story?_

 ** _When a character is done in my story, they will typically have a more definite end._**

 _Suggestions_

 _3) Yeah, I figure it almost time for them to make a move. Of course, it would be awesome if Bill Cipher cult appeared and started to make all forms of hell happen in Gravity Falls. I could read Priscilla and Tate sort of killing off other cults or damaging them that they would try to convert others to their little 'family'. Would they control Gravity Falls? No, because it seems that NOBODY can control Gravity Falls and that also might mean ANYONE. Even Demonic or non-human beings. I could read that they do cause the next issue. Maybe read Tate and Priscilla conflict with Fiddleford McGucket with his Society of the Blind Eye and probably work with Bill Cipher Cult to stop them. In the middle of it all Dipper and Mable Pines have to deal with the issue of what they want with them because everyone interested in the Pines Twins to further their own goals._

 ** _More worshippers of The Eye of Dreams will appear in the story quite soon._**

 _4) I keep forgetting about them like in the Cartoon. We need to know what going on with them. We know that they are missing and that they disappeared. They're either dead, held hostage or maybe that they are such bad parents/people that they divorce each other and both parents abandon Dipper and Mable now because they are sixteen years old. It could be whatever you decide, BUT out of most the Mysteries that "Depravity Falls" gives us we need to solve the issues of Dipper and Mable parents. Where they went and what happened to them? It rather interesting to read your take on Dipper and Mable's parents in "Depravity Falls". I either want them Dead or be the shittiest people they which is basically divorcing each other and abandoning their own children. I'm leaning towards the later, because that way Dipper and Mable lean on each other more for trust and yet find out how BAD human beings can be and their parents can be one of those examples, next to the Norwood and McGucket family issues._

 _6) Yeah, I'm just having fun with this Question and Suggestion. I could read Dipper and Mable keeping the Mystery Shack if Grunkle Stan Pines actually dies or decides to go into retirement with the Money or Connection he earned over the years. Dipper, I could read going to community college to take classes and also turning part of the Mystery Shack into a Bookstore that has wide knowledge that can be useful in Gravity Falls. Mable, I could read her actually keeping true to the Mystery Shack and scam people out of their money, but also sell good quality Sweaters/Clothing to survive in Oregon weather in Gravity Falls. Just an idea I thought you._

 ** _Dipper has the kind of feverish ambition which Ford did. He would not be very happy in a simple job._**

 _Mable Pines:_

 _Okay, as the story progressed I thought Dipper Pines was my favorite character in "Depravity Falls", but it looks like Mable coming in and tying with her brother as my two favorite characters of this story. I have to admit the development and the layers you gave Mable Pines is great to read about in "Depravity Falls". She experiences love, betrayal, anger, sadness, comfort, and hurt throughout this story. Not only that but it seems that Bill Cipher seems to favor Mable Pines with his brand. Though I can guess Bill Cipher wants both of the Pines Twins, so Dipper not far away from his plans/thoughts. Mable demonic brand seems to give her supernatural abilities to being able to use Super Strength, Telekinesis and accelerate her atoms to increase her Body temper to creating Electricity. Hell! After Pacifica Norwood betrayal, Mable Pines got back at the Norwood family or Preston Norwood by actually killing him in a fit of RAGE! Damn. That was something else to add to her character, a sense of insanity. Mable realizing that Pacifica betrayal looks to herself for comfort, but also longing for Dipper to be near her to help her pain. I don't know what this means. This is not a Dipper/Mable love story; this is a story of a DARKER "Gravity Falls" that explores a lot of the wish fulfillment that the fans wanted. Even I remember your original outline had a bit of Pinecest, so I don't think it matters. I think Bill Cipher fucked up enough to get Dipper and Mable to actually have intercourse for whatever plan he has for them._

 ** _Bill would consider it humorous to cause that, but he considers all human intercourse pathetic._**

 _Dipper Pines:_

 _Well, he was really a hero in this chapter or story than he was in "Gravity Falls". It just seems that way._

 ** _He is coming into the role._**

 _Pacifica Norwood:_

 _I hope that Pacifica does try to redeem herself and I wonder what her relationship with Dipper and Mable will be from now on._

 ** _You are correct that it will take a lot of time for Mabel and Pacifica to be back on a level field, just as it will take a lot of time for Dipper to forgive her for betraying his trust._**


	22. Update 2

**Update 2#:**

 _ **I apologize for the delay and thank you all for your patience. The thing is, that the second part of the Shapeshifter storyline, turned out the opposite of how I had wanted it. So, I'm re-writing most of it.**_

 _ **I just want to make something which is actually scary, and that is going to require some time. I've gotten to the point that I care more about making each episode actually disturbing then about churning them out. So until I publish the episode, thank you again for your patience, and thanks for the feedback!**_


	23. S2, E5: Capragas

**Comments** :

 **Coldblue** :

 _Sort of feel bad for the Alien if he was not killing so many people indiscriminately._

 ** _Abe is not an alien; he is an experiment made by the aliens. That's why he was in a jar._**

 _Is the next and final Time Slip going to happen soon? If so, who will travel through time with Dipper Pines?_

 ** _That episode won't be for a while._**

 **IsmaelParica:**

 _My question is: how does the shapeshifter devour someone's mind? I mean, is it by physical touch? (Being that the reason one must not touch him?)._

 ** _The Shapeshifter eats psychic energy by focusing its special organs on a human's brain. Then it starts to disrupt the brainwaves. This does not include actually breaking open the person's skull or anything, The Shapeshifter is eating electric pulses and brainwaves, those hold information, not the organ of the brain._**

 **Houstonmoose911:**

 _Can you do anything without exceeding my expectations?_

 ** _NO. XD_**

* * *

 **Episode 5: Capragas**

 _"There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment."_ \- **Hunter S. Thompson**

 _"Replicant, why do you lie on the ground?_

 _Shoveling handfuls of dirt on yourself..."_ \- _They Might Be Giants, "Replicant"_

* * *

 _Wendy swallowed, her mouth dry at the prospect of what she was about to do. Troy had dared her to throw a rock at the Pines house, and now he, along with Tambry and Nate, were watching her._

 _She reached down into the gravel driveway and plucked up a large stone. Then, she drew her arm back as far as she possibly could, and loosed the stone. It smashed through the window, shedding glass across the navy shingles._

 _A shout came from inside, and the eleven-year-old redhead backed away from the house as a yell came from inside._

 _The front door burst open, and her "friends" ran as Old Man Pines stomped out. Wendy found herself paralyzed and uncomprehending. The car was gone from the driveway. She would never have thrown the rock had she known that someone was home._

 _The man had almost enough gray bristles to form a beard, and his hair was a greasy mess. He wore a pair of cracked glasses and was dressed in a gray-brown overcoat. His black rubber boots crunched against the gravel as his nostrils flared._

 _He was fuming, angrier than her father had been when he caught her playing with matches. Angier then Mrs. Norwood had been when she screeched at Wendy after she walked in on the woman kissing a swimming instructor._

 _He looked downright demonic._

 _"You little shit." He called, right in front of her before she even had the guts to run._

 _He gripped her arm, painfully, more painfully than her father had ever been when he thrashed her. He glared down at her with eyes which were darker than the deepest storm clouds, with twice the lightning._

 _"Who paid you? Was it Preston? Is he trying to run me out of town again?" The man yelled at his silent vandal._

 _Wendy shook her head. "I…I don't know what you're talking about! Please…you're hurting my arm…"_

 _Old Man Pines gave a scratchy laugh. "You think I'm going to fall for this shit? How stupid do they think I am?" He turned, shaking his fist at the forest. "HEY! PRESTON! TATE! BILL! ALL OF YOU! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU SEND MY WAY! I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU BASTARDS MAKE ME THINK THAT I'M CRAZY, I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU GET AWAY WITH HARRASING ME!"_

 _Wendy tried not to cry. Crying had never helped her when her father punished her. "Please…it was just a dare…I'm sorry, I'll pay for the window with my allowance…just please let me go!"_

 _His hand grew twice as tight, and Wendy realized that the rumors were true. He did have six fingers on his hand._

 _He bent to stare into her eyes with his own dark brown ones. His smile disappeared. "Not until you tell me…who paid you? Were they in hoods? Was it the government?"_

 _"Please, I just want to go home!" Wendy begged, his hand growing more and more painful against the pale flesh of her lower arm._

 _"Only when you_ tell me _…what I want to know." He responded, reaching down and tugging off her trapper hat._

 _Wendy's mind jumped from her arm to the hat. "Give that back! My mom gave it to me!" She demanded, trying to sound threatening despite the fact that she was afraid Old Man Pines was going to make sure she was never seen or heard from again._

 _He grinned like a shark. "Tell. Me. Who. Paid you?"_

 _Now Wendy really did break into tears. The thought that she would lose the one thing connecting her to her mother, was unbearable._

 _Her captor was unmoved by her tears or cracking voice as she begged him to give her back the hat._

 _Her savior, instead came when the old man's car pulled up, and a man who looked just like Old Man Pines climbed out of it, rushing over to them._

 _"Ford! What the hell are you doing?"_

 _Old Man Pines let go of her arm and turned towards the other man, who was dressed in a sharp suit. To contrast Pines' anger, this man was clearly shaken by what he had just arrived to see. "This brat broke our window…she won't tell me who it was that paid her."_

 _The man crouched in front of her and wiped her eyes. "Ford…she's just a little kid. Are you sure it wasn't an accident?"_

 _"Ford" grabbed his relative's shoulder and spoke through gritted teeth. "Stan…she did it right after I had another dream about Bill. Someone must have paid her off for this."_

 _Stan rolled his eyes and stood up, brushing the dust from his knees and taking a step to the side, so that they were not discussing this right in front of a child. "Ford, she's Dan and Gwen's kid. I guarantee that she's innocent."_

 _Ford scoffed, and his rage returned, barely held back. "Innocent? Innocent? You mean like that little bastard who Bill's people paid to spy on the kids? You mean like the kindergarten teacher who tried to kidnap Dipper?"_

 _Stan sighed. "Ford, why don't you go inside, and I'll ask her if she knows anything…"_

 _Wendy spoke up, desperate to have her gift returned to her. "Please…could I have my hat back?"_

 _Both old men were surprised and annoyed at her request, but when Stan saw what she was actually referring to, he snatched it out of Ford's hands._

 _"So, now we're emotionally blackmailing children, is that it?" He asked with the same darkness which Ford had shown moments ago._

 _Ford folded his arms. "Don't try to make me look like the crazy one here, Stan. It's not paranoia-"_

 _"If it's justified…I know." Stan ended the man's sentence for him, with a disgusted scowl cast the shorter man's way, as he bent again at Wendy's side and placed the trapper's cap on her head._

 _Ford growled, and turned away, stalking back to the house and muttering about all manner of things. Stan righted the cap, then used his thumb to dry Wendy's cheeks. Then he looked deep into her eyes, with the warm responsibility which grown-ups rarely displayed._

 _"Are you alright?" He asked as he inspected the marks on her arm._

 _Wendy gave a shaky nod._

 _"Alright, now…why did you break my brother's window?"_

 _Wendy swallowed. "It…it was a bet…I'm sorry."_

 _"I know that you're sorry, but I need to know…who bet you to do that?"_

 _Wendy was far too shaken to abide by the code of honor which usually followed her and her friends. "Troy. My friend Troy."_

 _"Troy Cutter?"_

 _She nodded._

 _The man ran a hand across his chin and Wendy broke the silence. "My…my father can pay for the window…"_

 _Stan returned his gaze from something distant to her, and Wendy glimpsed something behind his eyes. It was sympathy. He knew, just as well as she did, that if her father found out she had not only broken a window but been in the presence of Old Man Pines (someone who he had explicitly warned her to stay away from), then she would receive the belting of her life._

 _While, at this point, Wendy had been so traumatized that she would rather take her licks and be on relatively good terms with the enraged scientist in the shack, Stan clearly didn't want this fate to befall her._

 _"That won't be necessary. I'll repair it myself…but you have to promise me something."_

 _"Anything!" Wendy offered, knowing from his sudden shift in demeanor that designated he was as kind a man, as he was dangerous a stranger._

 _He didn't have the same wild-eyed madness of his brother, but rather, a calm, collected threat behind every word._

 _"You must never, ever tell anyone about what I and my brother discussed. Understood?"_

 _Wendy nodded, then paused. "Not even my family?"_

 _"Especially not them. If you do, then you and your family will disappear. And that would be unfortunate."_

 _Wendy went pale at the idea. She gave another, much less hesitant nod. "I…I promise. I promise I'll never tell anyone."_

 _Stan's warm smile returned and he scratched her scalp, a bit of fatherly love back in his eyes. "Good girl."_

Wendy's eyes opened at the sound of murmuring. She turned in the bed and discovered that the source of the murmuring was Dipper, who was sleeping beside her in an uncomfortable plastic and metal chair.

She smiled. He had probably spent the last few hours, worrying over her.

Rain pelted the window to her right, where a street light illuminated the darkened street. It was the dead of night. Wendy was surprised that the thunder had not woken Dipper up yet.

She brushed her hand across his head and tangled her fingers in his hair. As she stared at him, it occurred to her that the dream she had just experienced held a strong level of déjà vu to it. That was disturbing, especially since she had never seen Ford, or even seen a picture of him at the age he was in the dream.

Of course, it must have been an effect of the inaccurate human mind, since Ford would have been dead by the time she was eleven.

"You're awake."

Wendy tensed at the surprise and discovered that Mabel silhouette lingered mournfully in the doorway. She smiled as the brunette moved inside the room, although, judging from the tone of the statement just made, Mabel was too tired to smile back.

"Do you want me to turn on the lights?" Mabel asked as her heels clicked against the linoleum floor.

Wendy shook her head and spoke in a whisper. "Dipper could use his sleep."

Mabel glanced to the darkened form of her brother, and nodded, before sitting down on the opposite side of the bed as him and gazing at the opening and closing of his nostrils.

Wendy frowned. "Is…everything alright? I…I was out cold…you guys killed The Shapeshifter right?"

Mabel shook her head. "Government took it away. It's locked up now."

Wendy licked her lips and posed the question which she dreaded. "And…it didn't kill anybody?"

"Nobody that we knew," Mabel admitted glumly.

It occurred to Wendy how messed up it was that "nobody we knew" was the best she could hope for nowadays. Still, the redhead let out some air she'd been holding in, and returned her hand to Dipper's head.

"Have you two had sex yet?"

Wendy tensed harder and turned her scowl on the mischievously smiling Mabel.

"That's a 'yes', isn't it?" Mabel attempted to confirm.

Wendy gave in. "I don't see how it's any of your business…but yes…we…we have."

Mabel shrugged. "I was just curious. I'm not trying to be nosy or protective or anything…I just…"

"You've never had it before, and you're beginning to wonder?" Wendy summarized.

Mabel put her hands in her head. "I…nevermind."

Wendy shook her head. "Go ahead. You clearly need some girl advice."

Mabel slumped further down, and, after giving a light moan, conceded. "Well…have you ever…wanted to do it with someone…someone who you can't stand to be around."

"Plenty of times," Wendy replied as she thought back to the numerous guys who she had dated for pleasure alone.

Mabel squirmed. "I…I'm afraid I'm going to make a mistake because my body wants me to."

"This is about Pacifica?" Wendy asked as gently as possible.

Mabel groaned and nodded.

Wendy placed her right hand on Mabel's arm. "It's alright. You're not a bad person, or a messed up person…all you need…is to find a way to move past those feelings. You can't stand to be around her, can you?"

Mabel shook her head, winced, and babbled. "When I'm around her I…I hate her and myself and everyone and…I don't want to feel that way. Ever."

"Of course you don't. But you feel frustrated because she's the only person you've ever thought about in that way?" Wendy asked as she removed her hands from Mabel's shoulder and Dipper's head, and place them on the mattress, pushing herself into sitting up.

Mabel gave another pitiful nod.

"Then that's easy. You find somebody to relieve that frustration. Somebody to…you knows, to just get you back on the right path."

Mabel gave a noise of agreement but then looked guilty up at Wendy. "Wendy?"

"Yes?"

"Will you help me? Help me find someone…" She asked with the brightest blush which Wendy had ever seen.

"Of course."

Mabel paused. "And…and can you help me…tomorrow, get rid of some clothes? I…I don't want any of the ones which remind me of her."

Wendy smirked. "That's even easier."

 **[0]**

Stan sat outside Wendy's hospital room, his eyes focused on the reflection of the lights on the floor.

"Well, isn't this a touching scene."

He looked up at the sound of the smug voice and had to stop himself from snarling. Priscilla stood over him, an eyebrow raised. She was dressed up, in a dark purple dress, with hooped earrings and shiny black heels. She must have spent at least an hour on her blush and eyeshadow, despite it being the dead of night.

Apparently, not even he was supposed to see her without her make-up.

"What do you want?" He asked as he returned his attention to the reflection on the floor.

Priscilla crossed her arms. "My daughter returned traumatized. I want to know what caused this…I'm assuming it was another time bomb that your brother left."

Stan ignored the unspoken question. "If you and your daughter don't leave us alone, I'll call the cops."

Priscilla giggled. "Really? Because according to Pacifica, if she hadn't been there, your niece and nephew would be dead. Having trouble taking care of them in your old age?"

Stan leaped to his feet and lurched towards her. He spoke in a hiss as she recoiled from his intimidating frame. "Do I need to repeat myself? Because if I exposed what you and your buddies are really like, the Brotherhood would eat you alive."

She frowned and then pouted. "I think you're underestimating my resources, _Leland_."

Stan's hands clenched at his sides and he shook. Then, within an instant, he burst into laughter.

"This one scares you, doesn't it? Something you can't track?" He asked as he sat back down and placed his chin against his knuckles.

Priscilla placed her hands on her hips. "I just thought that you and I could be on better footing than you and my husband were."

Stan groaned.

"Come now, Pines. Don't you have enough enemies to satisfy your testosterone-soaked brain? It's time to think about the children."

Stan scowled up at her. "You used them."  
"But I don't need them anymore. I need your information…it's time to decide how you really want all of this to end, Leland. You can't lie forever; you can't run forever either. Eventually, either your legs or theirs will give out."

Stan ran a hand through the messy gray hair which tangled and receded from his forehead. He broke the painful silence with a "Fine."

"Your daughter is telling the truth. Yes, it was something that my brother…discovered…although I have to suspect it would have made its way to the surface even if he had not discovered it."

Priscilla nodded. "Alright." She removed an envelope from under her arm and tossed it into his lap. "There you go. That should pay for all the hospital expenses."

With that, she stalked off and was joined by two bodyguards, leaving Stan with a sour taste in his mouth and an upset stomach.

 **[0]**

Later on, Stan would come into the room, to retrieve the slumbering Dipper and exhausted Mabel.

"It's a school night, remember?" He told Mabel as he picked up Dipper, bridal style, and walked with him without issue.

As he exited the room and Mabel waved goodbye, Wendy remembered just how strong her ex-boss was, mentally and physically.

They had first met when he was suffering a baseball hit to the back of the skull. She had been seventeen at the time, and without access to a proper driver's license. Still, she had driven him home, not to the hospital, but to his home, because he had threatened her against doing otherwise.

She had helped McGucket, the same old man her father had warned her about her entire life, get Stan inside. She had watched as McGucket, a cannibal according to her schoolyard friends, stitched Stan back up. No anesthetic, no questions. His hands had worked like lightning under the kitchen light, and when she had tried to duck out, he had given her such an unwholesome glower, that she had retreated to the living room, waiting for him to finish, and wondering what she had gotten herself into.

She had accepted when Stan had told her that he needed her to deliver a package for him, or else "they" would get him. He certainly knew how to access his "weak old man" persona, because she had believed that night, that Stan was the victim of the circumstance, just an old man trying to pay rent for him and his homeless buddy with some shady business.

Gravity Falls was full of stories like that one. Tobias Towner's brother had been knocked off by the mob. Susan Wentworth owed certain people a lot of money.

McGucket had done…something…terrible, and had not been able to handle the grief.

So, she had delivered the package, too intimidated, too morbidly curious, and too fooled to step away from the situation.

That was when Stan had shown himself to her. He wasn't the mule of the operation, he was the guy breeding and selling the mules. He was calculated and determined.

She had assumed that she had him all figured out that time. That she had understood him finally, that all his bravado and his charisma had been lain out for her as tools in his big red toolbox.

But she had been wrong. Dead wrong.

And that was what caused her to leave.

 **[0]**

Wendy had deposited the first box of clothes which Mabel wanted to donate in the back of her van when she heard scuffling nearby. Immediately alert, she stalked towards the sound, not daring to call out. Her hatchet was heavy against her leg, just as the gun which she had stolen from Stan's collection, was suddenly a stone in its holster. Still, both weapons were concealed by her coat, and that brought comfort.

Pacifica dove out of the bushes, hands in the air as she spoke, her voice growing higher in pitch as she begged. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry…I…I'll go…just please don't tell them…I…"  
Wendy looked the girl who she had hated from the moment she saw her, up and down. "What do you want?" The redhead tried to ask in the kindest way while still being threatening.

"I just…I want to make sure th-that Mabel and Dipper are alright." Pacifica responded, growing less meek when she realized that Wendy wasn't about to call and alert Stan of her illegal activity.

She was apparently, just as scared of him as everyone else.

Wendy took the blonde's wrist and marched her around the side of the house, Pacifica only crying out at first and then staying silent. Once they were surrounded by the dense emerald shadows of the trees which loomed over them, Wendy released Pacifica's wrist and spoke.

"I appreciate that you helped me and Dipper. But you have to stop this. You are hurting Mabel."

Pacifica glanced to the ground, and the illusion of her as a haughty rich girl who considered herself all-knowing vanished in that instant. She looked scared, like a little girl alone in a very big shopping center. Searching for her mother.

"I just…I want to…to make sure she's alright."

Wendy let out a deep breath and covered her face. Pacifica was aware of how much Wendy detested her, she could sense it in the blonde's voice.

"Please. Just…tell me how she's been…I…"

Wendy shook her head. "Mabel, has me to look after her. And Dipper. And Stan. So, the best thing you can do right now to make sure that she is 'alright'…is to leave her alone."

Pacifica began to protest but stopped herself. Her shoulders fell. She nodded meekly, Wendy had never seen someone so meek (so broken). Then she thanked Wendy for taking care of Mabel and walked off down the dirt trail which led back to town.

Wendy only noticed as she returned to Mabel (and found her hugging her pig), that Pacifica had looked exhausted and, for the first time since seeing her, the blonde had looked unkempt.

They were almost finished packing the other two boxes, when Dipper came running up the stairs, wearing the same smile of his which had first made her realize how cute he was.

"What are you so happy about?" Mabel asked as she finished folding a black sweater with golden sequins.

Dipper revealed a small envelope. "I got accepted into the University of California!"

Mabel's smile disappeared.

"And to this New England one…" He fished out another letter, and Wendy gave him her trademark cool smirk.

"Have you decided yet, tiger?"

He blushed at the nickname and spoke as he scratched the back of his neck. "No…but I…I mean, I just got them."  
She nodded and picked him up with a hug. Again, he blushed, but his embarrassment passed at the joy of being in her arms. Inside, Wendy was not giving a cheesy smile and congratulating her best friend.

She was mourning the loss of yet another companion. She had lost her mother, alienated her family, screwed over her friends. Now Dipper, the hopeful constant in her life, proved that one day soon he'd been leaving. Stan had been right when he told her that she had nothing except him and her next joint (wherever that came from).

Dipper would be excelling, he would be lifting his feet off the ground and escaping his crummy life and his family ties. She would be left behind. Everyone left her behind eventually. With all hope, they would break up before that inevitable schism occurred, and Dipper would fall in love with some nice, normal girl from college who didn't have hidden scars and who hadn't purposely traumatized him to achieve her own selfish goals. Hell, he might even marry the Miss Nice and Normal, pop out a couple kids of his own and get to live a fulfilling life, free of terror and trauma.

A best case scenario, something that neither she nor Stan believed in (nor probably Dipper at this point). But a possible one, nonetheless. She was toxic, her misery conducive towards his success.

Returning his shoes to the ground, Wendy ruffled his hair and picked up one of the boxes. "C'mon, Mabel, let's get these ones down to the truck." She suggested, able to see the fear in every inch of the girl's face.

Able to tell her reasoning, Mabel nodded glumly, and congratulated the saddened Dipper as she passed him.

When they were down in the driveway, with the two boxes stuffed into the back of Stan's car, Wendy turned to face Mabel.

"Alright, girl, spill the beans. What are you afraid of now? Dipper won't be going to college for at least two years." She asked with folded arms.

Sighing, Mabel sat on the trunk and curled her legs. "He's getting further away from me, Wendy. And…every time that we conquer one of those stupid monsters…every time, there's always something else."

Wendy sat down beside her. "What do you mean…something else?"

Mabel put her head in her hands. "I mean that I still love Pacifica, I mean that I still have this brand on my hand, I mean that Dipper is succeeding, while I'm not."

Wendy took a long inhale, and then placed her hand on Mabel's shoulder. "I know how you feel. But change will come. Trust me, it always does if you keep working for it."

Mabel gave a shrug of half-hearted agreement. Then she raised her head and spoke with clear intent. "That means you are going to work towards repairing what you broke with your dad?"

Wendy blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Dipper told you, huh?"

"Was it really that bad?" Mabel asked, sounding a little surprised, even though she had given witness to Wendy nearly accidentally killing her brother.

"Yes. It was. He insulted Dipper _and_ Stan, and I am not going to even look him in the eye until he apologizes to both of them." She stated with folded arms.

"Oh, cmon! You hate Stan!" Mabel stated as if the fact was as certain as the sky being blue or rocks refusing to float.

"That's not true." Wendy tried to argue with a distracted glance at her companion.

Mabel raised an eyebrow and Wendy groaned.

"I just…he needs to apologize to Dipper first," Wendy said, with her eyes glaring at the house.

"He did," Mabel stated. She continued when Wendy gave her a shocked look. "He stopped by, while you were at the hospital. Word travels quickly I guess and he was really worried about you. He said that he wanted to apologize and he told Dipper that he misjudged him."

The redhead turned her eyes to the gravel as she processed this information.

"Take it from me, Wendy. As person who…no longer has a chance to reconcile with her parents…I think you should do it as soon as possible."

Wendy gave Mabel an annoyed "you are right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it" look. Then she moved her hand to one of the boxes. "You know…we don't have to donate this stuff if you don't want to."

Mabel shook her head. "It's good to start over." She said in defense of the idea.

 _Yeah, but only so many times_. Wendy thought as she watched the twitches on Mabel's face.

 **[0]**

Once the boxes had been delivered, and Mabel returned home, Wendy headed for her home. Dipper had offered to come with, but Wendy had refused. Perhaps because she felt the need to distance herself from him before she inevitably lost him. Perhaps because the dread in her heart was equitable with one of those situations where you have to do something yourself or never do it at all.

The driveway felt like it was hours long, as she walked it into the garden. Her father was on the front porch, with something shiny in his hands. After a second of watching him, Wendy saw that it was her mother's broach. The one that she had wanted to pass on to Wendy, because it had been her grandmother's.

Wendy cleared her throat, which felt like the center of a drought as she watched his shaking hands and crushed expression. "Dad?"

He looked up, surprised, and hid the broach, forcing a smile as he stood. The rocking chair which he'd been sitting in creaked terribly as a result of movement and the porch stairs bent under his weight as he descended them.

"Gwendolyn…I…I thought you had work?"

Wendy frowned and shook her head. "I…no dad. I came to…to make things right."

Her father's confusion grew. "I thought, I thought that we had discussed everything that was needed to be said."

Wendy felt a spike of fear works its way into her heart. "Wait…when dad? When did we have that discussion?"

"Are you sure that you're alright? You look a little pale…"

Wendy had to stop herself from snapping at him. She took a deep breath and met her father's eyes. "Dad, when is the last time we talked?"

"This morning…you looked a little sick then, too. That's why I suggested that you lie down and you headed upstairs." Her father stated, searching his daughter's forehead for bruises which might mark a concussion.

"And…when did I leave?"

"Two hours ago. Are you sure that you should be out of the hospital? Is this…is this one of your supernatural things? Is that why you're asking me…because-"

Wendy shook her head and gave a shaky grin. "I…I need to talk to the others, Dad. I just, I'll answer your question after I talk to Eddie and Danny and Emmet."

 **[0]**

After discovering the poorly drawn note in her room ("You HAve A NicE fAmiLY"), Wendy began to hyperventilate. After asking her brother's what she had asked them, while "there" two hours ago, she began to wonder why she had ever trusted that the people who had kidnapped Dipper and nearly caused a zombie apocalypse, would ever tell the truth.

The Shapeshifter had tricked Danny into telling it Wendy's middle name, which apparently was information it considered very important.

She hugged each of her brother's and told them to stay inside the house. If someone asked to be let in, and that person didn't say the password ("mushrooms") then they should call her and refuse to allow the person in.

On the front porch, she told her father what she and Dipper had done, accidentally releasing The Shapeshifter. She told him how dangerous the monster was. He was angry at first, at her for being so reckless and getting involved with "all that hell", which appeared to be his word for all things strange and paranormal.

But then he forgave her and trusted her judgment.

She promised that The Shapeshifter would die before sun-up.

Then she dialed Stan as she drove back to The Shack.

 _"Hello?"_ He called with annoyance.

It was then, that Wendy realized she had spent quite some time at her house, the creature could have easily disguised itself as one of her friends. She needed a way to determine who could and could not be trusted.

"Stan, how did we meet?"

 _"What? Are you having memory troubles?"_

"Answer the question." Wendy insisted gritted teeth in her dry mouth.

Stan let out an exaggerated sigh. _"You found me in a parking lot, with a head wound. What is this about?"_

Wendy relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. "Stan, The Shapeshifter is still out here…it…it was in my house, rifling through my stuff. I…I think you need to make sure that the twins are safe and that no one comes around that you don't absolutely know."

 _"What?! Are you sure?"_

"Would I call otherwise?" Wendy asked, her irritation returning.

 _"Fine. I'll…I'll get something together and contact that…that fucking agent. Good luck."_

"Good luck." She returned. "Oh! And Stan…the password is 'mushrooms' alright? Make sure you know who you're talking to before you share it, understand?"

 _"I'm not an idiot, Corduroy."_

CLICK.

Wendy took a deep breath and drove down Main Street, hoping that she wasn't too late. If the creature had killed someone else in the time she had taken assuring her own family's safety then she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to forgive herself.

 **[0]**

It had become cold and dry in the time that it took Wendy to reach the shack, and although, she had faced no traffic, it had only taken those few lonesome minutes to begin to question the behavior of everyone she had interacted with in the past twenty-four hours.

It was clear that The Shapeshifter was messing with her, but for what purpose, she could not tell.

Maybe it considered her a threat. Or maybe it wanted to finish what it had started when it paralyzed her.

She could hear Stan yelling from inside the house as she crossed the gravel parking lot which she had so many times before, mentally reminding herself that she would have known if the monster had mascaraed as one of the twins.

"Excuse me, miss? Is Dipper home?"

Wendy turned towards the voice with her hand on the gun which rested at her belt.

Standing in front of her, was a wide-eyed girl around Dipper's age, holding a notepad and a copy of H.G. Well's "The Time Machine."

Wendy nodded and then realized why she was asking. "You're a friend of his?"

She nodded eagerly and extended a hand as she introduced herself. "Emma Sue."

Wendy let the hand stay there in the air, a sudden bitterness crossing her tongue. "I'm sorry, but we're in the middle of an emergency. I'm going to have to ask that you leave and come back later."

Her grip tightened on the revolver resting against her hip, and Emma might have realized what she was reached for, had she not been so intent on finding out what had happened to her "friend."

"Is Dipper alright? Is it Mabel or…or his uncle?"

Wendy shook her head. "Just a little problem…nothing to worry about. I'm sure that he'll call you when it's all over."

Emma's eyes narrowed and she finally looked Wendy up and down. A stinging cold breeze past, disturbing the leaves at the redhead's feet.

"You're the girl who usually picks them up, aren't you?" Emma asked with dim surprise. Her hands relaxed and Wendy thought she detected disgust in the shorter girl's expression.

All of sudden, she looked so much smarter. Her every movement felt calculated, a bid to cause Wendy to obsess and grow delusional.

"Why didn't Dipper call me if there was a problem?" Emma asked, growing more and more critical by the second.

Wendy licked her dry lips and then met the brunette's eyes. "I'm going to ask you one last time…to leave us alone."

Fear flooded Emma's features and she took a couple imprecise steps backward, her arms tensing up around the notepad and book in her arms. "Of course, I didn't mean to bother you guys…your fine…everything's…fine." She stated with the kind of smile that Wendy had given after Stan threatened her against ever trying to go into the basement again.

The tension in Wendy's body slackened and her heart returned to its regular pace.

This girl wasn't The Shapeshifter, but she now believed that Wendy had done something terrible to Dipper, or else, Dipper was involved in something terrible and Wendy was the cause of that something. She had no doubt grown up with stories of such things, just like Wendy.

And somehow, the redhead did not feel the compulsion to explain the situation better. She could tell herself that it was because she was strapped for time. But really it was because this girl clearly liked Dipper, and knowing Dipper, he clearly liked her back. And the fact that she was everything which Wendy was not, made the redhead feel more like an outsider to her own life than ever.

She didn't have the patience or the good will to let this girl off with anything less than dread.

As soon as Emma was out of view, Wendy clambered up the stairs and burst into the front room. Immediately, she began calling for Dipper and Mabel, cutting short Stan's distant conversation. She tore through the side of the house which had been converted for business purposes.

She found Dipper in his room, packing a suitcase. When she didn't immediately say the password, he grew spooked, and she had to relax him before he would relay Stan's plan. Stan always had a plan. This time, the plan was to for Stan to fly them to somewhere safe, while The Shapeshifter was taken care of.

Mabel was upstairs, packing as well. Wendy promised Dipper that everything would be fine and that she would be back in a second.

After making sure that Mabel was alright (her pig fretted as she jumped between the wardrobe and the carry on laying on her bed), Wendy dove down the stairs and found Stan.

He was on the back porch, talking with the sicko who had shot Dipper's grandfather, tied Dipper up, and nearly released a plague of unholy abominations.

They were arguing of course.

"I'm going to say this one last time, Mr. Pines, and you better back off after I do. It was classified information; I couldn't have told you if I _wanted_ to."

Stan's fists were at his side, itching to strike the shorter man. He spoke, with his shoulders hunching to make him seem more intimidating. "Bullshit. You literally got away with murder last time you broke the rules… _we_ had a deal. The least you could have done-!"

"They monitor our calls, Mr. Pines. I would be incarcerated, or worse, for treason." Agent Lockhart replied, still as calm as ever. It was clear, however, that he was just as eager for physical conflict, he just happened to be less interested in showing that.

"I swear to god, if something happens because of you and your goddamn classified information-!" Stan was interrupted before his threat could pick up steam.

"You'll _what_ , Mr. Pines?" Agent Lockhart asked, raising an eyebrow and stepping closer to the elderly con artist.

Stan's lips curled and his eyes twitched, but he did not say a word. Merely take a step back.

Since she had known him, Stan had never backed down. He had taken on criminal organizations, lunatics, and everything in between. He had stayed off the radar of anything bigger, he had made himself invisible, a rather easy feat for a supposedly dead man.

But at the moment, he looked much more akin to the quivering old man stuck in the middle of forces beyond his control.

Agent Lockhart turned, grinned at her, and removed his walkie-talkie. "We're doing everything that we can, Mr. Pines. I suggest you and your family stay out of the way." He ordered softly, before walking to the armored vehicle which had been parked alongside Stan's busted up car.

A couple motions and the soldier's standing beside the armored car both followed him inside of the menacing vehicle.

Stan noticed Wendy and stumbled inside, sweating like a pig. "I need…a glass of whiskey." He insisted. once he had sat down and stared at the exposed table longingly.

Once he sat down, he gazed at the exposed table longingly.

Despite her better instincts, Wendy did as commanded and retrieved the bottle beneath the sink.

As he poured himself a glass, Stan addressed her as if on his deathbed. "You need to drive Dipper and Mabel to the airport."

Wendy frowned. "What? I don't understand…"

"Someone isn't going to make it out of this alive, and it may as well be me. You are their legal guardian after me…and you're the only person besides me who can help them deal with Bill and his followers." Stan replied as he tossed the car keys into her hands.

That she understood. She had no inclination to attempt to convince the man who had manipulated her for the last year, that his life was worth something or that they could make it out of this without that kind of sacrifice.

If she was honest, she wanted him to die. It was clear that his criminal background would only become another obstacle for the twins to triumph over.

At the same time, the idea of so much responsibility suddenly coming down on her shoulders, was mortifying. How long could she provide for them? What if she failed to protect them? There would be no one and nothing to turn to.

Stan gulped down the rest of the drink and poured a second glass as he glared up at her. "Stop dawdling, get the car ready."

She was amazed by how ready he was for something of this sort. He had always been self-destructive in his own strange ways, but this felt different. Had he put something to rest? Accepted something about the death of his brother? Or had all his plans just suddenly come crashing down around him?

Wendy nodded and picked up the three tickets which lay on the table. She glanced, one last time at Stan, before moving to the staircase and calling to Mabel.

"I always thought it was amazing…how alike you and I are." Stan commented as he gave his glass a drunken smiled. He swallowed the entire glass in one shot as Wendy stared daggers at him.

She found the implication insulting and said as much.

He ignored her and continued. "…absent mother…overbearing dad…"

Wendy called up again, hoping that he might lower his voice or at least, take another drink so that he became too slurred for the twins to hear him.

"…heh. And you got into this for the same reasons as me."

"And what would that be?" Wendy questioned without looking back at him.

Stan's smile faded and he answered as he stood and wiped his lips.

"Family."

Dipper appeared and asked if she was coming with them, only once glancing at Stan, who had moved into the living room and was on the phone with someone. Wendy nodded and escorted him to the car. It didn't turn on after the first few turns of the key, and Wendy nearly collapsed in relief when it jerked on.

Then she removed her phone from her jacket pocket and stepped out of the car. She took a deep breath and called her father.

No response. She called again, more desperate for him to pick up the phone than ever. She needed to tell him, he needed to know so that all of her brothers could know that she wouldn't be back soon.

When the second call led her to an answering machine, she nearly sobbed with frustration and placed a hand on the roof of the car.

She tried to calm herself so that her father didn't panic and believe she was in trouble. Still, she knew there was something off about her words, and she ended the message by telling her father that she loved him and her brothers.

"I'll see you soon." She stated, before flipping close her phone and climbing back into the driver's seat.

Dipper was fidgeting and she gave him what she hoped was a warm smile. His sister ran down the back porch steps, joining her brother in the back seat, and placing Waddles, in his cage, atop her lap.

"Are both of you buckled?" Wendy asked after a moment of the two younger teens shuffling about.

They both nodded.

"Is it alright to leave Stan in the house…alone?" Mabel asked as she clutched Waddles' cage.

Wendy changed the gear and backed up onto the dirt road which she had first driven Stan home on. "He's not coming."

The silence which followed was deafening, and Mabel looked ready to say something, to insist otherwise. But then Dipper placed his hand on her shoulder. She sniffed and Dipper pulled her into a constrained hug.

Wendy took one last look at the ramshackle foundation surrounded by dense timberland, before jerking onto the highway. She turned on the radio, in hopes of stifling the dread which hung over them all.

It didn't work. Some country song reciting the most cliché version of love known to man came on, and Wendy immediately flipped the dial back off.

They were coming up on the "HOPE YOU COME BACK SOON!" sign, when Mabel's phone rang. She held it to her ear and cleared her throat before speaking.

"Hello?"

Her expression immediately changed and she turned her attention to Wendy. "Stop the car."

Wendy asked without taking her eyes off the road. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Brenda says that The Shapeshifter almost killed Candy. We have to help get her to the hospital!"

Wendy turned her eyes back to the sign. _Almost there, almost out of this entire mess and safe._

She had wanted out of the town before her mother attempted suicide. She had wanted out since climbing that sign and carving her initials into the painted wood.

"I'm supposed to keep you two from dying. If…if it was really Brenda, she would call the police or the hospital first. Not us."

Mabel's eyes widened at the accusation.

"But she's in trouble!" The brunette insisted.

Dipper faced his sister. "But Mabel…we can't take the chance, that it's not…you know…that it isn't them! We _need_ …to keep moving. It's…it's not our job to help everyone."

Mabel glanced between Dipper and Wendy and then began shaking her head. Her eyes were wide as she curled into her corner of the car and murmured to herself.

"Mabel-" Dipper said in a stage whisper, before reaching for her.

She reacted like a cornered animal. "NO! THIS IS WRONG DIPPER! IT'S WRONG!" She screeched, rage widening her eyes. "When you were kidnapped by the lifeguard, Brenda and Candy helped break in! Did they call the police? No! They helped get you back! When you went missing, they helped look for you! And when Stan was possessed, they helped get him back, even after he _lied_ and threatened them!"

Dipper turned his eyes to the floor of the car.

Wendy rolled the car onto the side of the road. Then she turned to face Mabel. "Stan entrusted me to take care of you two. I need to make sure that you are safe. Do you understand? I'm sorry, but I can only handle one thing at a time, and right now, I need to get you two to the airport, _intact_. I need to be with you on the plane and when you land, because there are people who are looking for you. The same people who murdered your parents. I can't let you out of my sight. Understand?"

Mabel didn't speak, she just folded her arms and lowered her gaze.

"If you want, I can tell Stan that they need his help. But I am not turning this car around." Wendy asserted, before turning away.

Mabel raised her eyes, and shook slightly before mouthing the words "fuck you."

Wendy ignored her. She was able to see Dipper's scared kid expression in the mirror. He was now torn between siding with his sister and his girlfriend, which could not have been doing wonders for his mental state, considering that he was already scared out of his mind (and rightfully so).

Wendy got back on the road and dialed Stan as she told herself that she was making the right choice.

"Stan, Brenda, and Candy are…supposedly in trouble. Do you know where they live?"

 _"Of course." I know where everyone lives_ , had been the bit he'd chosen not to share no doubt.

 _"Wendy, is Mabel going to be alright without her pig?"_ Stan asked, a question which would have felt a little laughable given the dire circumstances, had Waddles not been in the cage on Mabel's lap.

Wendy almost dropped the phone. "Stuh-Stuh-Stan?"

 _"Yes?"_

"Are you…Stan, Waddles is in the car with us." Wendy shared as she stared at the hog.

 _"That's impossible. I found him, hiding in the closet."_

Its eyes turned back and Wendy reached for her gun. By the time she had whipped it out, the cage was broken, Dipper and Mabel were screaming, and tendrils had flooded the car.

When the police arrived on the scene of the wreckage, the person who had called them, reported that the car had just suddenly jerked off the road, rolled down a thirty-yard slope and collided redwood.

 **[0]**

 _Stan had led her down the basement stairs only once, and he had only needed to do so once. She had followed with fear and fascination. When she had seen what he kept down there…she had forced herself to sit down and take it all in. The machine had glowed bright enough to illuminate the entire cavern._

 _He had told her that he could bring back her mother. That if she played along, he would get his brother back and she would get her mother back._

 _As long as she introduced the twins to the supernatural. As long as she made sure that they followed the instructions, the invisible instructions, everything would go smoothly. She hadn't exactly understood the concept of why she would be doing the things he instructed, but she wasn't surprised that Stan was cold blooded enough to send his own niece and nephew to a haunted mall, to "help him uncover the instructions."_

 _She had agreed. She had sold her soul. He had been right as they shook hands. "I knew I could count on you Corduroy."_

Wendy awoke to find her perspective on its side. Her eyes locked on The Shapeshifter, disguised as her, outside her window, dragging Mabel into the forest. She shook herself, pushed aside the unhelpful airbag, and, with the car on its side, she climbed out of it.

She removed her gun from its holster, made sure it was full, and then removed her prize hatchet from her belt. She leaped off the car and aimed at her pursuit's head.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The Shapeshifter shrieked and turned towards her. Her own face briefly flashed to an indescribable horror, lacking eyes, but it did have a mouth the size of a human face, one filled with teeth that reminded her of an angler fish.

It roared at her, dropping Mabel, and then tossing a log at her. She dove the side and shot at it twice.

The first bullet hit, the second did not. Wendy charged as the creature grabbed another log. Her hatchet plunged into its arm, which, with the brutal impact, turned into one that was yellow and brown, as well as being covered in bumps. Green-yellow blood oozed from the wound, and The Shapeshifter shrieked, almost too shrill to be heard. It tossed her against a tree, and then tore the hatchet out. When she stood back up, only lightly bruised from the throw, it flung the weapon at her.

She ducked and the ax landed somewhere in the tall grass behind her.

The Shapeshifter threw Mabel over its shoulder and transformed back into a copy of the redhead, weaving between the trees. Wendy followed, saving her last bullet for a clear shot. It was clear that the creature was considerably weakened from the blows she had inflicted. One good shot might just end the nightmare.

Then it disappeared.

Somehow, she had lost track of it. Terror filled her, and she glanced back and forth, gun at the ready.

A clearing lay up ahead, and Mabel lay unconscious on the opposite side of the clearing from Wendy. It was the most obvious bait that she had ever seen.

She called out as she aimed the gun. "Why don't you leave us alone? There are billions of other people to…suck the brains out of. Just…just leave us alone."

It chuckled, a terrible sound given that its ability to mimic human communication was breaking down. The response was low, but still had the quality of a whisper to it. It echoed through the woods and made Wendy feel like the trees themselves were watching her.

 ** _"This one…Maybull…she…seen more than all else…seen layers of what is to be seen…information…I can't resist…"  
_** Wendy turned when she thought she heard movement behind her. The monster was referring to when Mabel had been possessed. Of course. Having seen any of what Bill had shown her, she would technically have more knowledge than any mathematician or tech genius on the planet.

 _"You take the boy with the birthmark, you be happy…she is mine now."_

This whisper got louder and Wendy looked up in time for The Shapeshifter to descend on her. She fired. She missed. It tossed her into the clearing and stamped on her gun before its terrible visage rippled and was replaced with a copy of her.

It climbed atop her and grinned. _"It's going to be so much fun…posing as you. With her dead, and you dead, and no one will disagree."_

Its face opened up, to reveal blood red organs pulsating. Then it began to suck the psychic energy from her mind. With every memory consumed, it grew stronger, just as she grew weaker and weaker.

 _"This is interesting. You have buried memories, just like Maybull and Deeper."_ It said as it observed her struggling, like a scientist watching an ant struggle in a trap he'd created.

Wendy tried to bite it, to scratch it, to do something. But she was losing control quickly.

And The Shapeshifter was right. She could now remember, quite clearly, Stan aiming a small device at her after she asked about his brother. His brother, Ford. The one who had yelled at her when she was eleven. The one who had definitely not died when the lying bastard had claimed.

The Shapeshifter reached down and plucked her trapper's hat off of her head. _"I like it…you won't be needing it, will you?"_ The creature asked with a grin as it adjusted the hat on top of its head.

Big mistake.

Wendy slammed her fist into its face. Then she kneed it where, if it had been human, it would have a stomach.

The hat fell to the side as she turned the creature over and pushed her elbow against its neck.

"Actually…I will." She stated with her own grin, despite the desire to vomit being stronger than ever, and that her opponent was starting to retaliate.

 **[0]**

Dipper had already been in a car crash, he was used to the whiplash and reacted with incredible speed. He kicked the window open, and shielded his face from the shards of glass, before climbing out as delicately as possible.

Wendy and Mabel were already out, which was an incredible relief. However, as far as he could tell, The Shapeshifter had also exited the vehicle.

He coughed as the smoke emerging from the crushed engine flooded the air and crawled across the cold grass as he rubbed his neck where the seatbelt had pulled taught and dug into his neck.

Screaming came from further in the woods, and Dipper stood for a moment, feeling useless and stupid for not considering that The Shapeshifter might have taken such an obvious form.

Then he spotted Wendy's ax. It lay on the grass, just a couple feet away, coated in blood. He dove to grab it and charged through the forest, praying that he wasn't too late. If either Mabel or Wendy died, he would never forgive himself.

He broke through the brush, and discovered Wendy, wrestling with an exact copy of Wendy, while Mabel lay unconscious nearby. Wendy's gun had been crushed, although he could smell the smoke from it going off. Neither Wendy had suffered a bullet wound, however, so The Shapeshifter must have disguised its wounds.

The Wendy who lay on the ground, pinned by the duplicate, looked up and struggled to speak. "Dipper…please!"

The Wendy who had the other pinned noticed him and gestured. "Quick! Give me the ax and I'll kill it! It's weak right now."  
Dipper glanced between the two of them, the one on the ground pleading, while the one on top yelled at him more and more aggressively to give her the ax before "it" escaped again.

He had to decide. _Wendy wouldn't beg, right? She wouldn't shout at him…would she?_

The Wendy asking for the ax got punched in the stomach, and the Wendy who had been a moment ago pleading climbed on top of her, placing her arm against the other's throat grabbing a nearby rock and lifting it in the air.

Dipper swung the hatchet into the rock-holder's stomach.

Wendy choked. The blade cut through her stomach, killing her almost instantly. Blood dribbled out of her mouth as she turned towards her murderer. Her eyes met Dipper's. Then they closed and she toppled over. Her red blood stained her coat and pooled in the grass.

Dipper trembled and fell to his knees as he realized what he had just done. He leaped to catch her, to stop her from hitting the ground. But then he recoiled, terrified to touch her. His hands shook and he placed them on either side of his head, biting his lip and staring at her perfect body.

Her round little nose. Her freckled cheeks and shoulders. Her eyes. He would never see the life in those eyes again.

Abe smiled and stood to its full height. _"Wrong choice."_ It said as it watched Dipper stare at the corpse of his best friend and lover.

 _"You know…for a second there, I was worried you had figured me out."_ It said as Dipper stared at Wendy's expression of shock.

Bill appeared behind Abe, and gave Dipper a mournful look, before sighing and disappearing back out of existence.

 _"Now…because it amuses me, why don't you run? I'd rather you live knowing that I've turned your sister into a vegetable and that you've killed the only person who could stand your presence…your brain isn't worth much anyway."_ Abe stated as it shapeshifted to resemble Dipper and folded its arms.

Dipper gaped at Wendy's corpse, then he glanced at Mabel's unconscious body. Wendy's hat lay beside her.

He remembered when the redhead had explained the significance of that hat to him. They had been on the roof, star gazing. That moment had felt like it lasted forever. Now it was gone.

 **And who's fault is that?**

Suddenly, all the grief and the self-loathing, it turned into wrath.

When Gn'aak had reached inside his brain and revealed all his most terrible desires to his conscious mind, all his inhibitions had briefly ceased to exist. They had been drowned by emotion.

That was nothing compared to his current state.

Dipper nodded, and passed Abe, his eyes on the grass, his entire body trembling. Then his hands tightened around the ax in his dead girlfriend's side and he embedded the blade in The Shapeshifter. It screamed.

Good. It should scream. He hit it with the hatchet again, and again, and again, relishing every scream.

When the SBE arrived, Dipper was cradling Mabel's head against his stomach and was muttering "I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry…" over and over again, as he stared at the corpse of the red haired girl.

He didn't cry on the way to the cleaning facility. He didn't cry or speak as Agent Lockhart attempted to get the truth out of him, about what had happened. He didn't cry when he was taken to the hospital to be with his family.

If Agent Lockhart didn't know better, he would have said that the boy was incapable of crying.

But that was sheer conjecture.

 **[0]**

TRANSCRIPT OF LAST KNOWN RECORDING OF GWENDOLYN MEREDITH CORDUROY:

 _"Hey dad…it's…it's me and I…I just wanted to let you know that I'm fine and that…someone is going to take care of the monster. You may not trust him…but I do. And I think you should just let everyone know…that I probably won't see any of them for a while._

 _I'm, I'm taking a plane…along with some kids who I…I've been put in charge of. And yeah…I think I'm too young for that responsibility, but hey! Life isn't about getting what we want, is it?_

 _So…I'll call when we touch down. You might not understand right now, but someday you will. I need to do this, to make things right._

 _I'm going to miss you guys…but I promise that I'll…I'll…_

 _…See you soon."_

* * *

 ** _Message: SENO DEVOL REH HTIW ERA SREYARP RUO._**

 ** _RELLIK LAIRES NAMDAM DEKSAM EHT FO MITCIV LANIF EHT SAW EHS._**

 ** _RETSIS GNIVOL DNA RETHGUAD LUFITUD, YRODUROC NYLODNEWG PIR._**


	24. S2, E6: Best Laid Plans

**Episode 6: Best Laid Plans**

* * *

 _"If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." –_ **Woody Allen**

 **[0]**

"A long time ago, on a very small planet…a group of apes were at the mercy of the elements. So, they did the logical thing, and began carving their gods into the stone, they committed sacrifices of human and animal blood, to avoid poison, famine, and disease. Of course, the Mighty Ones couldn't control those things. But they could control the dreams of the humans. They could influence them towards madness or brilliance…sometimes both. As the standard of living increased, less and less sacrifices were made. That angered the Mighty Ones. So they've returned to take back what is rightfully theirs. It's a century-long plan…I doubt you or your friends, or your government can stop them. I know that I'm not going to tell you anything more until my tastes are fulfilled."

McGucket stared back at Amanda Ramirez, who had fixed him with an amused expression.

"And, if what you say is true…why would you want this to happen?" McGucket asked with his hands folded on the cold metal table. The light above suddenly felt hot against his balding scalp.

Amanda's smile widened and McGucket saw something terrifyingly familiar in her black eyes. "The Hollow One has touched me. I have no fear now. Besides, it will make things much more… _interesting_."

"But there is a way to stop this, correct?"

Amanda shrugged. "If one does not succeed in inciting mania, another will step in to take its place. Our kind has thrived too long; we've forgotten that we aren't at the top of the food chain." She leaned forward. "The only question is…will our demise be a watery one? Or we will we be vaporized by the re-awakened super volcanoes. Will we transform this world into a nuclear inferno, jumping at shadows…or will we fester and descend on each other with knives and forks ready? My bet is on the all-knowing Hollow One, how about you, Fiddleford?"

McGucket stood up and picked up the recorder set in the room. "I think we're done for today. We'll talk again tomorrow."

Amanda called after him. "Talk all you want! Soon the barrier will fall and there will be no place that we can hide!"

 **[0]**

The man in the cell knew there was someone right outside the door of his cell. They had fed him at least five times (the man in the cell's mind was frazzled) by sliding a bowl of something through the little slot in the center of the door. He had knocked and called, he had refused food for days if just to get a reaction.

He received none. Eventually, he ate the gruel served, unable to take it a moment longer.

Now, he could hear his jailer speaking with someone who had a high pitched voice. Never had he hated someone as much as he did the person who fed him. Not that he could remember anyone, what with his complete lack of memories.

Still, he was certain that he had never wanted to murder someone, as much as he wanted to throttle this person and the owner of the high pitched voice. When, not "if", he escaped, they were all going suffer. He'd be sure of that, so that no one ever tried to do this to him again.

 **[0]**

Dipper descended a deep, blue stairway. The walls were covered in holes, like they had once been underwater and had been engraved in words which no longer meant anything to anyone. He stumbled once, almost tripping down the rest of the granite steps.

In his arms, he clutched something small and bright. He didn't know what the thing was and he didn't care. All that mattered was making it to the bottom of the stairs.

The first obstacle was a short, natural formation of stone, which served as a bridge. It allowed him to cross the black ocean that stormed below. However, a man in an alabaster and golden mask stood in the center of the natural formation. He removed a knife from his belt and gestured for Dipper to approach.

Dipper shook his head and the man laughed. Lightning flashed, it gleamed off the knife and sent a search light across the night sky. Dipper picked up a baseball-sized stone, almost dropping it into the black abyss below, for how slippery it was. He warned the man, who just laughed again.

The laughter wouldn't end. No matter what, it wouldn't leave him alone. It got under his skin and engraved into his heart. He chocked and then launched the rock through the air. It collided with the man, sending cracks across his mask and for him to struggle for a moment.

Then he toppled and his mask split. Dipper watched Wendy fall, he watched her become consumed by the ocean and then knelt in atonement. _Why?_ Why had he done it? How could he become so paranoid, so stuck inside his own head?

Eventually, after what felt like years, he crossed the bridge.

More stairs. More words which lacked meaning and thus were not words. More madness. More decay. There were chains on the walls now. Dipper was quite sure that the chains were holding something alive to the walls, or multiple things which were alive. But he felt too dead to even glance at them.

He needed to get to the bottom of the stairs.

He came to a stop, in a room filled with razor sharp crystals, each at least a foot long, and extending from nearly every angle. They would have been beautiful, reflecting their green and purple light in an endless fashion, had they not posed so much threat to someone who wasn't careful.

In the center of the room, Stan stood, with his favorite shotgun aimed at Dipper.

"Don't take another step." He insisted.

Dipper shook his head. He didn't want to hurt Stan. But he would do what he needed if it meant reaching the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm warning you. I won't think twice." Stan said, his hands shaking.

Dipper sneered. He opened his hands and the light, the thing which had illuminated his journey, it filled the room. It glowed brighter than ever before, and Dipper closed his eyes. When the light exploded, Stan was on the ground, blind and screaming. Dipper stepped over him and took his gun, ignoring the man's wriggling form and continuing down the stairs.

Of course, now they barely were stairs, rather, more of a ramp with occasional ledges. Dipper fell many times, but after a while, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He became one with it, able to see and feel the other beings which passed through the lack of light.

The thing which called to him from the bottom of the stair was louder than ever before. After descending for days, the thing grew so loud that it blocked out the sound of everything else. Even his breathing seemed second nature to listening to its enchanting words.

Suddenly, all the madness inscribed on the walls made perfect sense. Each and every one he could read, and each and every one he could pass was readily available to his photographic memory. He was almost there, almost to the thing below and its indiscernible beauty. Just around the next corner lay his prize.

"Dipper, please stop."

Dipper turned and discovered his sister, standing ten feet above him, holding a lantern.

"Please. Please come back to me." She called, her voice looming in how I t echoed and stretched. The barest hint of emotion behind the otherwise defeated syllables was heartbreaking.

And it was then that Dipper realized why he was such a danger to them all. Why he did this to himself and why they would never understand. They still had hope for him. He didn't. They had been trying to stop him from looking at what was not meant to be seen.

Wendy and Stan hadn't been threatening him, they had been attempting to dissuade him from continuing. And now his sister, defenseless as the day she had been born, was trying to end his hunger just when he was on the verge of taking the first bite.

He'd been born with his own umbilical cord around his neck. This was his fate. That's why he had been marked by the powers that be, destined to die and let everyone have a happy ending.

He shook his head and Mabel nodded. She didn't cry. She didn't beg. She only looked…tired.

Then she removed a revolver from her pocket and shot him in the middle of the head.

"Dipper…please wake up…"

Dipper's eyes opened and he found Mabel, dressed in black, at his bedside.

"Please, Dipper…it's time."

 **[0]**

It was a cold, bright funeral. The opposite of the dreary, rainy precessions shown in a movie or on TV whenever a major character bites the dust. In fact, there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

And that made Dipper feel small, and lonely for some reason. Maybe it was because everything reminded him that he had murdered her.

It was a close-casket burial of course, as Wendy's stomach had been cut open. It was also a depressingly small turnout. Aside from Dipper, Stan, and Mabel, there was only Wendy's father at the beginning of the burial. Robbie was there, of course, having taken on the roll of a mortician and grave digger with his father's and mother's disappearance.

Dipper listened to Robbie speak some Bible phrases over the grave, committing his atheistic girlfriend to the dirt. He understood why the man did so, as he doubted Robbie believed what he was talking about. This was custom, and clearly, he needed the strength of the phrases as much as any attendant.

He listened to Wendy's father choke through speaking about how vibrant she was, how resilient and kind she had been. How she was taken from them too soon, and how he wished he had been a better father. How she had been _just like her mother_.

Dipper only moved his attention from the sparse grass when Wendy's father started charging at him. He could see the punch coming from a mile away. But he didn't move out of the way.

His nose broke against the pale fist and he fell backward, blood staining the same suit which he had worn to Pacifica's "party." Stan shoved Dan before he could attack again and warned him to get himself under control.

Dan, who obviously had been drinking, called Stan a "son-of-a-bitch" and attempted to punch him. Stan stopped the attack by grabbing Dan's fist and then hitting him three quick times in the lower abdomen.

Dan collapsed, and his sons had to help get him back to his feet. Dipper could see the rage in their eyes.

"I knew you would do this! I knew you would get her killed you son of a bitch!" Dan screamed as Robbie struggled to figure out how to defuse the situation.

Dan's rage was replaced with sorrow as he was half dragged, half supported to the car. "You killed my little girl…you're going to pay…"

Stan decided it was time to leave right around then.

 **[0]**

Mabel received a call from Brenda, moments after they left the funeral, that Candy had awoken. And as they rode to the hospital, hope was conjured inside of Dipper. Maybe, just maybe, the day would not feel like an exercise in mental punishment. If Candy was alright, then they would all feel a little better, and maybe Dipper would hate himself quite as much, knowing that he hadn't put her in a comma as he'd first thought, by suggesting they investigate the bunker.

But it wasn't like that. There weren't teary smiles or sudden warmth, or any kind of release.

Candy didn't know either of them. Dipper had to stand beside his sister, watching her face as Candy looked at her best friend without recognizing her. He had to watch the contortions on Mabel's face and try not to break into a mixture of sobbing and apologizing.

He had to watch Candy flinch at every sudden movement, he had to watch her grow more and more confused and scared, with Mabel's every attempt to indicate who they were.

The nickname Candy, rendered no response from her, as well. And why should it? The Shapeshifter had consumed so many of her memories, so much of her intelligence. She was a shell.

And they couldn't make it any better. He couldn't. Of course, he couldn't, as he was unable to really help anything. If anything, he just made things worse.

Apparently, she was just as confused and irrational around he r own parents, who Dipper noticed grew more distressed with every second they spent watching their daughter unravel. He had deduced they were not the greatest people from how Candy had spoken of them, but it was clear that they cared for her, when they charged into the hospital room, proclaiming that he, Mabel, and Brenda were responsible for Candy's condition, and that they were making her suffer.

Mabel begged Candy's parents not to send Candy to a mental hospital as they informed them they were doing. Brenda yelled at them as well, claiming that Candy had "told me what you did!"

Dipper didn't know what she was talking about, but the accusation certainly didn't help at all. Candy's parents bristled and grew twice as aggressive.

Dipper wanted to try and convince them that they should wait. But he felt powerless to change their minds. How could he look them in the eye, knowing that he was responsible?

Out in the hall, Brenda seemed to agree. She slammed him into the wall, her words hurting almost as much as her hands against his malnourished shoulders.

"You let that monster get out! You turned your backs on us when Jae was in pain! NOW. FIX THIS!" She ordered, her grip tightening with every word. Her eyes were full of rage, and the same lack of reason which had influenced Candy's parents.

Stan yanked her off before Dipper could say anything. He put on a pair of black gloves as she fumed, screaming at him, and attracting the attention of a nearby security guard.

He spoke, in the calmest tone which Dipper had ever heard his uncle offer. "Leave us alone."

Brenda threw her leather jacket off and took a couple steps forward, her hands level to tackle someone as she responded. "and who is going to stop me? You?"  
Mabel stepped between them, but neither the flattened Dipper, furious Brenda, or focused Stan heard her. If they did, her words weren't enough to slow what was already in motion.

A security guard called out for Brenda to stop, hand at his waist. Stan raised a hand and the man froze. Then the old man gave a small smile. "That's strike two. Usually, I only give people who piss me off, two strikes. But you're a friend of my niece, so I am going to give you the option to leave and cool off."

Dipper had the image of Stan doing this, a thousand times before. Warning someone who had underestimated him to leave him alone, or else. He reached out, trying to speak. But the words disappeared when he saw Bill, leaning against the wall, on the other side of the hall, holding a bag of popcorn.

He gave Dipper a pointed look, and his words appeared in the teen's mind. **I told you the old man deserved to die, didn't I?**

Brenda charged Stan, screaming obscenities.

Stan side-stepped her attack, his hand sweeping out with hardly any force. The open palm crossed into a fist at the last possible moment and Brenda toppled backward, her nose crooked and blood pouring down the side of her face.

Stan turned to the security guard and gave a flippant gesture, before grabbing Dipper's arm and pulling him towards the parking lot. When Mabel didn't follow, he slowed and sneered. "MABEL! NOW! We are going home!"

Mabel winced as the guard handcuffed Brenda and called the police.

She followed, but neither she nor Dipper (who was still gawking at Bill, who watched Brenda with a smug look in his eye), believed Stan's statement. They weren't going home. Home had been a refuge; home had been simple. Home had been somewhere between Gravity Falls and Piedmont.

Stan's house wasn't home. Dipper wasn't sure he'd ever have home again.

 **[0]**

Brenda sat in the county jail, nursing her nose with some toilet paper which she had been offered after intense complaint. Her throat felt clogged, and her face throbbed. In all her days of fighting, she had never faced such a one-sided battle and been on the losing end.

Her veins pumped angry blood as she considered the smile Stan Pines must have grinned when he watched her run straight into his fist. He must have been a professional at one point, she had never seen someone so old make as unsettlingly quick and synchronized movements.

She needed to focus, however. Jae needed her to be strong right now. To ignore her rage and her visions of The Shapeshifter, returning to finish the job. Jae had been terrified of the nuthouse, Brenda couldn't let her again suffer in there, this time, afflicted by something that no doctor on earth could cure. She didn't care how. She would protect her girlfriend from that fate.

Sherriff Finch came to the front of her cell, unlocking the door. Brenda frowned. She thought that Dipper and Mabel had abandoned her. Why would they bail her out of jail, when they clearly wanted nothing to do with her?

"Who bailed me out?" She asked, checking to make sure she wasn't actually sharing the containment area with some drunk or defacer.

The only person who had cared about her had been Candy. And now she didn't even know who Brenda was.

Finch sighed and stepped to the side. "You've got some strange friends."

Her frown deepened and Brenda stepped out of the cell, immediately making eye contact with Tate McGucket. She hated his smile, especially now that she had seen his father wear it.

The man waited until they were outside, and surrounded by his associates (strong, devoted men and women, wielding guns and knives) to speak. "I heard that you might have a little trouble in paradise. And I've decided, that out of the goodness of my heart, I'm going to help you with it." He paused, ever the ham, before continuing. "For a…small…fee."

Brenda wiped her nose and didn't spend the hesitation which might invoke his wrath.

 **[0]**

While Tate McGucket was putting his hand around Brenda's shoulders and bringing her up to speed on his _big_ plans, his father was in a cell, over a hundred feet underground. He was sitting across the table from Amanda Ramirez.

She giggled, breaking the silence of the last two hours of interrogation, which had somehow turned into contemplation.

Fiddleford gave his own smile and spoke. "I can wait here all day."

Amanda lay her head down on the table. "That's good…because I don't need sleep."

She giggled again, and Fiddleford was reminded of someone, a long time ago, telling him that, with fiery eyes and a mad grin.

Fiddleford adjusted his position. "Yes, you do. Everyone needs sleep. If you don't sleep, you'll die."

He was struck by déjà vu, at having to explain basic biology to someone who he had believed he would be able to treat like an adult. It was so frustrating, knowing that everyone around you was so easily revealed to be a fool.

Amanda leaned closer, her chained hands pulling taught against the metal chair of the interrogation chamber. She spoke in a whisper, her eyes glancing at the security camera in the corner of the room.

"I've forgotten the question." She admitted, with the shame of child admitting to having looked at their Christmas present.

Fiddleford shook thoughts of laughter and families, and brightly lit trees from his head. He had a job to do, after all.

"What is he planning?" Fiddleford asked, arms folded.

Amanda crinkled her brow and her ever-present smile grew wider. "I'm not telling."

"If you don't, then our sessions will have to end, I'm afraid," Fiddleford stated as he stood, tired of being jerked around.

"Fine, fine… _fine_ …I'll tell you…just sit back down." The girl suggested with an angelic expression on her bruised and scarred face.

Fiddleford returned to his seat and dragged his hand across the cold metal as he spoke. "Go ahead then." He ordered.

Her smile twitched, and she closed her eyes. When they opened, they were pitch black, and her teeth had begun to bleed. When she spoke, the air grew stale and dense, and Fiddleford's ears began to hurt from the deep voice which emitted from her lungs. _"Gn'aak has no devices. He only requests to linger until Txfyu'nt marches the heavens and undoes the seven temporal overlaps, on which date, all reality then will fold onto itself, and Gn'aak will be everything."_ Her eyes closed and opened to reveal the same, normal eyes which observed his every movement with the attention of a scientist, studying the choices of maze rats.

"And everything will be Gn'aak." She finished.

Fiddleford took a deep breath and continued. "So…then Tuxfoonet is…the uh…the…the one I should be trying to stop."

Amanda shook her head and then leaned away from him, perfectly fine with the blood which stained her orange jumper. "Nope. There is another." Her smile disappeared and her eyes went blank. "I think we're done for today."

Fiddleford stood up, more frustrated than ever. "Stop playing with my head…just tell me who it is which is causing all of this and how I can stop them!" He demanded.

Amanda guffawed at him and then opened her legs. "Sure thing, Preacher-Man. Fuck me a couple of times, right here, right now, and I'll give you a name. You can call me 'Bella', or 'Anne' if you felt that way about your mom."

Fiddleford recoiled, turning away with disgust.

"Bring me Dipper Pines in the next hour…then bring me some serrated blades and bindings…let me play with him and I'll tell you where the unnamed being comes from."

Fiddleford glanced back at her. She wasn't finished giving demands.

"Let me play with him while his sister is forced at gun point to watch, then I'll tell you when the named being started doing the stuff he did."

Fiddleford suddenly felt suffocated, he felt spots explode in front of his eyes. The air was too humid; the room was too close. He needed to get out before she absolutely suffocated him. He banged on the door, to be let out. TO be let away from the monster.

Her eyes went hollow, and the light flickered as she spoke in a whisper. "Let me torture everyone who was ever close to Agent Gray, and I'll tell you _why_ the named being does what he does."

Her smile disappeared again, and the door opened.

"But there as for 'how'…go to the Garland House. The man in the cell needs to be kept out of the reach of the Eye of Dreams. The man is the key."

The guards closed the door and Fiddleford put a hand against the wall to keep from collapsing. His heart slowed its funeral drum beating, even as he heard that same giggle ring inside his head.

Somewhere, Gn'aak, the Hollow One, the Sunken Devourer, was laughing.

 **[0]**

Dipper lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and realizing that all of the warmth had gone out of his life in just a few days. He wanted to tell Mabel what he had done. He wanted to be forgiven. He wanted to fall apart in her arms like it wasn't his responsibility to hold it together.

But she would never forgive him. How could she? He had seen that look of disgust on her face when he refused that they turn the car around.

The door creaked open, causing light to pierce the darkness and fall over Dipper. He sat up, hoping he didn't look as terrible as he thought.

"Hello?" He called out, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

Wendy strode in, her face wrinkling with amusement at his shocked expression. She was dressed in the same brown jacket, the same green top, and the same white tank-top. She pressed a finger to his lips before he could begin asking any questions, and crouched over him. "Hey, Dippingsauce." She whispered as her face lay inches from his.

Dipper broke his frozen state and pressed his lips to hers. It felt perfect. He ran his hands through her hair and inhaled her scent as he turned her over on the bed. She laughed at his enthusiasm and worked his shirt off as her tongue worked into his mouth.

When they broke apart, Dipper almost immediately pressed himself back against her.

"Slow down, Dippingsauce." She requested as he trailed kisses down her neck to her perfect, dimpled shoulders.

"Why?" He murmured into her warm, soft skin.

She grew serious and guilty. "Because if you start out with too much passion, then there's no room to escalate."

He broke their embrace and stared into her eyes.

Police sirens went off in the distance, and Dipper awoke, alone in his bed. He cursed Bill. He sobbed into his pillow. Eventually, he fell asleep.

 **[0]**

Mabel removed the objects from her locker with increasing exhaustion. She wished she could have stayed away from school forever. But nothing lasted forever.

So, she was back to trying to wrap her head around equations and trying to remember the facts which meant little to her.

Especially, with Wendy dead, it was hard to concentrate. Everything lost so much meaning with the knowledge that she had brushed so close to death.

A finger tapped her shoulder, and she turned, expecting Dipper to be hurrying her. Instead, Gabe Benson was offering her a weak smile. He was dressed in a button up and slacks, no doubt just having left the theater, where he spent most his time. She returned his grin self-consciously and he moved his hand from her shoulder to the back of his neck.

"I um…I know that you and I haven't formerly met..." He stated, his bright blue eyes almost as entrancing as his calm, sympathetic voice. "…but I just wanted to say I'm sorry for your loss. And I hope that things get better for you and your brother."

She had observed him from afar since starting high school, and to know that he actually cared about her, swung her mood. No, he wasn't handsome in the classical sense, being rather short and skinny, but he did everything with a kindness that she couldn't help desire to exist in her life.

He was the kind of guy which he had always dreamed about.

"Thank you..." Mabel responded in a small voice, her eyes locking with his.

He stared at her, looked away, and then nodded. He started to say something more, and then, thought better of it.

As he turned away, she noticed the clipboard under his left arm and called out. "What's the clipboard for?"

He turned back and smiled. "It's for this show I'm putting on, at the local library. It's a…" He paused and decided to add in a clause. "…hey, promise you won't make fun of me," Gabe insisted, now the self-conscious one.

Mabel giggled. "I knit my own sweaters. Whatever it is, I'm not going to mock you."

He sighed and gave in. "I do an educational puppet show…and I need volunteers to help me with the props and costumes."

Mabel grinned. "See, that wasn't so bad. I've met guys with weirder hobbies."

Gabe brightened. "Re-Really? You don't think it's…creepy or childish or something?"

Mabel examined his face and realized that he had faced rejection based on his interests before. As a girl, guys had only ever really cared how pretty she was, and what her personality was like.

She imagined that most girls at their school wouldn't want anything to do with him, based solely on his odd interest.

"Of course." She stated, trying not to show how bad she felt for him. During her headgear phase, most people wouldn't look at her twice.

She coughed and asked if she could help. Gabe gave an ecstatic yes, offering her a pen which had been lodged between his ear and his forehead.

She scribbled down her name, he gave her a slip of paper with the dates for practice and informed her that "she wouldn't regret this."

Mabel had been in such a good mood from this interaction, that she felt like she had gone from 10 to 1 when she heard Pacifica call out her name.

She slammed her locker closed and didn't bother to pull her backpack over her other shoulder as the girl stopped about five feet from her. She was dressed in her cheerleader's outfit, with her hair in pigtails.

"Pacifica," Mabel began, trying to keep her voice even. "I don't know what is that you want, but I would appreciate it if you could…leave me alone."

"But I-!"

"No." Mabel faced her, briefly crumbling at the sight of Pacifica's agonized face. "I appreciate…you trying to look after me. But you are making me feel miserable."

Pacifica stepped closer. "I just wanted to ask if you were alright!" She claimed.

"Yeah. And then I'm going to start crying, and you're going to hold me tightly, and everything will be forgiven between us, right?" Mabel asked, her hand digging into the strap of the backpack.

Pacifica's hands balled at her sides. "You can't have known what it was like. Feeling…powerless. I did what I had to."

Mabel turned away, her tone of voice refusing to waver. "I know. You did what you had to do, and now I'm doing what I have to do…by asking you to leave me alone."

Pacifica touched her shoulder, saying something that she must have thought was comforting. "Please…can't we just talk about this?"

Mabel snapped.

She whirled on the shorter girl, her eyes black pits of loathing. "NO! _We_ aren't going to talk about anything because you make me feel physically ill."

Pacifica flinched, and Mabel gripped her wrist so that she couldn't run avoid the acidic honesty which she had begun vomiting up. "You make me hate myself, and hate you…and hate everybody else. You make me feel like I'm fucked up because I'm still attracted to you. You make me feel guilty for saying that _I don't belong to you_. That's how sick this relationship is, whenever you're around, I feel like a whore!" She stated, her list growing more and more forceful as she forced Pacifica to stumble.

"I'm not yours, I don't belong to you. People…don't belong to other people. You don't get to stalk me because you've always gotten what you want. _It's time to grow up_ , understand? I don't belong to you, and if you keep harassing me… _you and your dad are going to be reunited."_

Pacifica's eyes widened with the threat.

She tripped and almost fell. She was caught, however, by Kennedy (who was also in her cheerleader costume). Kennedy dusted off Pacifica and pulled her towards the gym. "C'mon," She insisted in a whisper. "That bitch isn't worth it."  
Mabel fumed. And just like that, it occurred to her, how easy it would be, to send that waste of human flesh, the same one who had admitted to hating Pacifica several months ago, out the window on the opposite side of the hall. It was Kennedy and her kind, who, after all, prevented Pacifica from coming to grips with her reality, from being happy and letting Mabel become happy. It was sad, pathetic, useless little Kennedy like her, who only ever made life miserable for other people. They never accomplished anything, they never succeeded. They just…continued to exist.

The lights in the hall flickered, and Pacifica glanced back at Mabel.

It would be so easy…just one little push and her life would be so much easier. She'd be doing the world a favor when it really came down to it.

Principal Horn stepped between Mabel and her target and coughed to get her attention. "In my office. Now."

Mabel raised her eyes to meet his and wondered who would miss him.

Then her clenched hand relaxed. The lights flickered and returned to normal. And Mabel hated herself even more with the realization of what she had been five seconds away from doing.

She took a shaky breath and followed Horn to his office.

Stan was inside in five minutes, sitting in the chair next to the exhausted Mabel, and yelling at Principal Horn.

Although intimidated, the bald, older man was rigid. Mabel had cursed and been loud. Both of which were against the rules.

"She will have to have at least a weeks detention," Horn stated as he crossed his fingers in front him, cringing when he saw Stan's expression.

Stan was about to stand up, to do something threatening maybe. But Mabel was saved from having to witness that when a knock came at the door of the office.

"Come in!" Horn called, thankful for a distraction from the foul-mouthed teen in front of him, and her fouler-tempered uncle.

The school therapist stuck his head inside and offered an ashamed smile.

"Reiner, what is it?" Horn asked, treating the teachers, and most of the staff, like they were the rowdy children he was tasked with keeping not-rowdy.

Reiner made eye contact with Mabel. He had offered to help her this morning, suggesting that she needed someone to talk to. She had rejected that offer, for reasons she herself couldn't quite fathom.

"I was thinking that, instead of detention, Mabel Pines could help me filing."

Horn narrowed his eyes, no doubt on the trail of whatever it was that Reiner was riding on. Stan folded his arms and spoke with reluctance. "I think that would be much better for Mabel. No offense, but I don't think her knocking out the old erasers with you, is going to change much."

Horn fumed, and discovered that they were all staring at him, Stan glaring as much as Mabel and Reiner's noiseless begging.

"Alright, fine…she can have sessions with you, once every day after school. But I want a full report of each session, on my desk, understood?" He insisted, arms folded.

Reiner nodded. "You won't regret this, sir."

Of course, Horn had a sinking feeling that he would.

 **[0]**

Pacifica stepped inside, and left her bag by the door, exhausted from practice, and from thinking of Mabel throughout it.

Her mother was in the foyer, speaking with someone she didn't recognize. There was someone who she did recognize in the room, however. Brenda. She was sitting in the armchair, watching her mother and scruffy, frail man exchanged verbal blows. They weren't quite insulting one another, but both seemed unimpressed with the other's bravado.

She turned away from the door, but her mother's voice called out before she could continue any further.

"Pacifica," Her mother tread out of the foyer, dressed in a long coat to withstand the cruel elements. "Did you talk with the twins today?"

Pacifica stayed tight-lipped and shook her head, wishing that she could just walk away from her mother and ignore every word.

"You're lying, aren't you?" Her mother asked as she grabbed Pacifica's chin and forced her to look her in the eye.

Pacifica pulled away, looking her mother up and down and then glancing at the man who she had been talking with. He now leaned into the door frame, a smile on his lips.

"There's something wrong with you," Pacifica informed her mother, before turning away and ignoring the agitated shrieks which followed her.

She heard the man chuckle "Why haven't you introduced her to the lifestyle yet, Pris? I'd love to break her in."  
She shuddered at the thought of sharing a room with the unnamed creep. He reminded her of her father.

The blonde stopped at the top of the stairs and glanced back at Brenda. The girl looked ready to do something terrible. But Pacifica was already pushing it by being disrespectful. And it was clear that Brenda would not listen if someone told her to stop, she was only longing for an alternative option (which there most likely was none, if she was dealing with Pacifica's mom).

Pacifica broke the stare and charged onto the second floor. She needed to lie down, to relieve her headache with some useless gossip (although, that had tasted bitter in her mouth since Mabel had left her).

Her room was still filled with photos of the brunette, and looking at them now, brought her self-pity and disgust, instead of the usual comfort. Maria, the maid in charge of attending to her section of the mansion, had tried to rearrange or temporarily remove the photos. And Pacifica had almost screamed at her.

Afterward, she had apologized and politely requested for Maria to not move the photos again. As she stared at her favorite of the collection, a pic of Mabel laughing, her hair red against the light of the setting sun, Pacifica realized how similar she was to her mother.

She apologized to the ceiling as she lay in the bed that she had never gotten to share with Mabel, and placed the photo of the girl on the bedside table.

 _No more._ She would burn the photos; she would force herself over this hump. She would end this.

 _No more_.

 **[0]**

They sat in twelve minutes of silence before Reiner re-posed the question.

"Why were you yelling?"

Mabel raised her vision and found that his eyes were wrinkled with love. He didn't know her, but he still cared about her.

"I yelled because I'm miserable." She admitted.

 **[0]**

Dipper was in the middle of reading about a type of snail which could theoretically fight brain cancer when Bill appeared across from him on the library table. Dipper jumped and then seethed as the demon giggled at his surprise.

Immediately, the world shifted. Other people became mostly babbling phantoms, perusing ancient knowledge. The skylight allowed a purple sun's light inside the mausoleum which they were now in.

"Leave me alone." He ordered Bill, as the creature watched him with an unimpressed stare.

He turned and found Bill standing in front of him, adjusting his bowtie. _"Relax kid, I'm here to help you."_

Dipper bristled and ducked past him, into the non-fiction section. Whenever he touched something, it appeared to return to normal in his vision. "I don't need _your_ help."

He couldn't help but be morbidly fascinated by the world which Bill was showing him. There was so much more to reality, clearly.

Bill appeared at the end of the section, leaning against the right-hand shelf. _"You sure? Because with ShootingStar stuck in school therapy because of her breakdown…I think you could use all the help you can get."_

The demon removed a book about algae with his lower left hand and flipped it open.

Dipper ignored him, and Bill loomed closer. _"I want your sister's friend to regain her mind as much as you do. She's part of the plan."  
_ "I don't want anything to do with your _plan,_ " Dipper informed him without looking up at him.

Bill waited for Dipper to be heading towards the exit to call out to him. _"Why do you think I call you PineTree, instead of Dipper?"_

Dipper stopped and swallowed. Then he ignored him and brought his books to the librarian, who apparently, could neither see nor hear Bill.

 _"It's because you're important. You've got an important destiny. That's why I wanted to make a deal with you, and protect Red from Mr. Shapey-Shifty."_ Bill claimed as he craned over Dipper.

Beginning to shake, Dipper shoved the book in his hands to the librarian and told him to keep it. He marched towards the automatic doors, refusing to give Bill the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

Bill materialized between Dipper and the automatic doors and leaned down to face him. _"Fungi."_

Dipper blinked. "What? What are you…what the hell are you talking about?"

The librarian frowned. "Are you…are you talking to me?" He asked.

Bill made a sound of amusement and cocked his head. _"Candy needs a really fun guy to build back her brain."_

With that, Bill zipped out of existence, and the automatic doors opened, leaving Dipper peering into the brightness of the overcast sky.

 **[0]**

Robbie watched the scotch circle in his shot glass and turned his attention to the shadows created by the fan spinning over the carpet. When he had inherited the house, he had not considered taking up the morbid occupation which his father had always prepared him for.

But Mrs. Collings lay on a table below, in need of a decent haircut and some more color on those old bones of hers. Something about Wendy's death, it had changed everything. For the better or worse, eh was unsure. He felt more distant from Tambry then ever, but there was something at peace within him.

He rubbed his amber necklace with his thumb and forefinger. It felt like a chunk of ice currently.

As if on cue, a knock came at the back door. He knew who it was. She riffled around the place, threatened him a little, and then told him to relax before disappearing back into the night.

As he sat back down, her final words echoed. _"This kind of magic isn't cheap, Robs, and you've yet to pay up."_

True, but then "paying up" had never really been part of the American dream, now had it. As he poured himself another glass of scotch, he noticed how far off the trail he had gone. The voice of Cathy was in the back of his head.

Tambry had said he needed a hobby, he noted with a smirk. Maybe actually researching this thing might just be something to work on between maintaining the old house and keeping the corpses pretty.

 _"You promised."_ Cathy reminded him. And Robbie didn't argue.

How could he? Somewhere, out there, the demon she had warned about, was torturing his soul. It was only a matter of who.

 **[0]**

The sweat glistened off of Wendy's naked form, her seductive pose illuminated only by the moon. She was more beautiful than ever. Her eyes were gates to another world, her hair tangled and enchanting.

Lake waves lapped against her feet as she serviced him, bringing him high, and then leaving him panting, before returning to work. She had a grin, delighted and cheeky that she was able to bring him so much pleasure.

Dipper cried out her name over and over again, feeling the insurmountable pleasure pile as his hands created gaping holes in the sand and his toes curled. She giggled at his expression and he gripped her hair, her moaning as he pulled her up, and kissed her as he played with her breasts.

"You're so beautiful…so smart…" He muttered as she moaned and clung to him, both of them slaves to each other and the ripples spread by the swollen full moon which hung over their lithe forms.

"This is the way it's supposed to be." He muttered as he trailed kisses along her neck.

Wendy grew still, and the moon ceased to become maddeningly romantic. Instead, it was just a source of insanity. Wendy stared down at him, with tears welling in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, knowing perfectly well what was wrong.

Something hot and wet spread across where his chest was pressed against her torso. He looked down and watched the ax-wound spread across her thin flesh. Chunking, hot blood oozed, and Dipper pressed one hand to the wound, applying as much pressure he could and hoping that he was not bruising her flesh. His other hand wrapped around her waist to prevent her from tipping backward and striking her head against a stone.

Her legs broke the surface of the lake, and Dipper realized she was being dragged away from him. He clutched her hands, screaming as he pulled against the intentions of the black and green tentacles wrapped around her ankles. The loathsome, stinking appendages were too strong, and his hands were already sweaty.

He begged her to fight back, just for a moment so that he could get her to the hospital. But she didn't. She just stared into his eyes and wordlessly pose the question that she had never gotten to ask.

 _Why Dipper?_

Wendy screamed out for him as she was pulled under the waves. The dark water didn't grow darker on contact with her blood, as it was already full of the stuff.

Likewise, her corpse did not float to the surface, because she was too deep to ever see the night sky again.

Dipper awoke, drenched in sweat, and bleeding from an old scar. He staggered into the bathroom, and lay in the tub a little while, shivering and whining.

 **[0]**

The man in the cell had been sharpening the spoon provided against the metal, prepared to stab it either into his captor, or himself (Which ever target made the most sense in the next five minutes) when he heard shouting.

Shouting. Then gunfire. Then the door, opening. Halleluiah and pray to the almighty, because his prayers had been answered. He stepped back and was blinded as he heard two voices, neither familiar.

"This is that the guy Ramirez mentioned?" Said a man in a mask.

"He looks like she described." The man in sunglasses and a suit said as guns he gestured for guns to be fixed on the stunned young man.

The man with sunglasses smiled at him. Then he gave another gestured and sleeping dart struck the prisoner in the neck. He collapsed in a matter of seconds, and two soldiers had to carry him to their truck.

"Sir, what should we do with this one?" One of the soldiers asked, standing beside the unconscious Bergmann.

Agent Lockhart shrugged. "He's guilty of kidnapping and trespassing…threaten him with the electric chair if he doesn't squeal and if that doesn't work, stick him in a room with Ramirez until one of them feels like talking."

 **[0]**

"Now, on our last session we got to the point that the reason for your outburst was a result of you feeling miserable," School therapist Reiner said as he stood up and moved to the side of the desk. "So, now I want to get to the root of that misery and see if how we can cope and overcome that root. Alright?"

Mabel nodded, wondering what Dipper was doing at the moment.

"Mabel, what do _you_ think is the cause of your misery?" Reiner asked, as he sat back down and picked up his pen and pad.

Mabel sighed, and a thousand answers danced in her head.

 _Everything._

 _Nothing, maybe._

 _Something you can't understand._

 _Immaturity. Loneliness. Depression. Numbness._

 _I'm wrong and the world is right, but in a really horrible way that I don't want to admit._

 _I don't see the point in anything anymore. There's no light at the end of the tunnel. There used to be, or at least, there didn't used to be a tunnel. Now I can't find my way back out._

 _There is no problem, I'll just never be happy. Sorry doc._

"Mabel, please…I know it can be difficult, but I need you to open up for me right now."

Mabel swallowed and lowered her face. "I want to stop."

"Stop what?"

"The thing that I do with my brother. It makes him happier, I think…but I feel like it's ruining my life."

He frowned. "What…what is this thing that you do with your brother?"

Mabel licked her dry lips before responding. "He doesn't force me. I just can never say no…we've been depending on each other for so long but I…I'm afraid he's going to grow up, and I'm not, and he's going to leave me. And then…and this thing I do with him, is the only thing that I still have in common with him." She paused. "But it's making my life worse and worse and I'm afraid that it might kill him. I don't want to go along anymore, but I don't want him all alone."  
Reiner leaned forward, suddenly concerned. "Mabel…are you and your brother experimenting with drugs?"

Mabel shook her head. "It's nothing like that."

Reiner grew more uncomfortable and battled with the next question. "Mabel…this isn't a…a sexual thing that you're talking about, correct?"

Mabel grew pale and shuddered. "No! I'd never…that would be…I…no. No, it's not like that either."

"But it is illegal, correct?"

Mabel avoided his eyes. "No, not really…well, sometimes, but not always. That's not the part that he enjoys. It's…it's hard to explain."

"Mabel," Reiner adjusted in his seat. "Why don't you just tell me what this thing is? Then we'll avoid all the confusion?"

Mabel sniffed and then met his eyes. "We explore. We go into places that don't belong to us and we look at things which…which don't belong to us, and usually there's no problem, but sometimes it's dangerous, and sometimes I'm worried that it's going to be the end of us. It-it used to be fun, you know?" She managed a little smile. "Like when we were little, we'd capture a toad and feed it and hide it in our room…and that was fun."

Her smile fled.

"It keeps getting closer and closer each time though and I…I'm going to lose him or he's going to lose me…and everything…everything just keeps getting worse and worse because of it…" Her eyes grew itchy, but she didn't look away from Reiner's concerned paralyzation as she confessed. "…and I can't do it anymore…I just want to be normal. I think there was a point to doing it a long time ago. But now it's just…it's sick. I think…Dipper's sick, and I don't want to lose him but I'm afraid I'm going to snap and hurt him…or hurt someone else, if we keep doing it."

Reiner remained silent for eons. Mabel rubbed her eyes and chewed on her lip. She panted, every movement of the second's hand on the clock above Reiner's desk, causing her to wonder if she and Dipper would end up in Juvie Hall, or an institution because she couldn't keep a secret.

Reiner wrote something down on his pad and then stood up. "You want to stop, correct?" He asked, with dark clouds over his brow.

Mabel nodded and wiped her eyes again.

"Then stop."

Mabel wanted to argue. But what was her retort? _It's not that easy_ or _I want to but I can't._

Reiner started speaking when she remained silent. "Mabel, you are a vibrant and beautiful young lady. You deserve a normal life; you deserve peace of mind. You need to tell your brother that you won't watch him destroy himself. And you need to suggest that he seek help from me, or another therapist." Reiner sighed. "He's refused my attempts to help him console with the death Wendy," Mabel had told the man all about Wendy during their first session. Not the bit about the murderous, alien shapeshifter parasite thing. But that Wendy had been killed by an ax-wielding maniac, something which Reiner would have known from the local paper and/or gossip.

"But just because he refuses to better his mental health, does not mean that you are trapped, young lady. Just tell him what you told me, and I'm sure he'll agree." Reiner stated with an inspiring smile.

Mabel stumbled to her feet, thanking him over and over again. Words were cheap, so she didn't pay any attention to the number of times she said "thank you so much" or the number of times that she shook his hand. Instead, she headed for the exit, promising that to do so tonight.

Once she had stomped down the hall, Dr. Alpheus Reiner adjusted his glasses and moved behind his desk. He opened the bottom left drawer and removed a small statuette. It depicted a twelve-limbed being, with a pyramid for a head, and one huge, charcoal organ in the center of that pyramid.

He placed it on the desk and bowed twice to it, before spreading his legs and kneeling in front of it. He could feel the awesome power of the being venerated by the statue, radiating into him. He could feel the eyes watching him. His own minuteness in comparison was so pleasurable, that he felt far more loved then he ever had in the presence of his parents or any of his three siblings.

"I have done as you commanded Master. May the fates of the Dream-Twins rest under your merciful gaze." He muttered, closing his own eyes and enjoying the image of his god, appearing in the sunspots across his eyes.

The door opened, and Horn entered. "Reiner, I want to know how the-"

Principal Horn paused when he saw the statue, and Reiner raised his eyes. He smiled as he stood and removed a tiny serrated knife from his pocket.

"Hello, Horn." He said as the other man backed away. "Don't worry…if you fall under His mercy, then your soul will not be committed to one of the pits of suffering or to the eternal nightmare."

Horn tried to escape. But the old man was past his prime. He tripped and fell at the top of the stairs.

The janitor rushed up the stairs and asked what was wrong. Reiner appeared, knife still in hand, and the janitor understood. He removed a rag from his pocket, and gagged Horn. He also helped hold down the bald man as Reiner made short work of him. He mopped up the mess and wished good luck to Reiner as he disposed of the body.

Reiner didn't need any luck of course. Both him and the janitor were well aware that there was no such thing as luck. Only B'ylb'zfi'r's mercy.

 **[0]**

Dipper spent the afternoon at the library and headed home when he was absolutely certain after comparing multiple accounts and reading about the fungi in both The Journal and Gideon's tome.

He was sure that this, a way to save Mabel's friend, to empower his depressed sister, would brighten her day after a boring hour of therapy. Really, he was hoping it would save him.

When he got home, there was something that almost ruined his mood. He arrived, to find Stan, on the back porch, talking with Priscilla Norwood. That sent off alarm bells, because they sounded like they were almost having a pleasant conversation. Not like they were threatening one another, but like they were old pals, in on a bargain together.

Still, he didn't know Stan's motivation. He couldn't be sure. He would need to talk to the old man about it, but he was sure that it could all be summed up in a few words.

Mabel was upstairs, getting ready for something. He knocked on her door, and she welcomed him inside, without glancing at his face. Dipper tried to grin at her, but she was focusing on the puppet's which she was making out of socks.

"What are you working on?" Dipper asked, hoping that he didn't sound too mocking.

She smiled. "Me and some of the people from school…we're all putting together this puppet show at the library for the kids…" She finally met his gaze. "You should help. We need someone to play the preacher after all."

He chuckled. "No thanks, I've got something better for us to do."

Her face fell, and he leaped into his explanation before she could get out much more than a disappointed "Dipper…"

"I found a way to get Candy her memories back. It's a special type of mushroom which enhances the mind of whoever eats them. They're rare…and guarded, but I wrote down ways past the creatures which guard them, I think that Brenda would-"

"Dipper, Candy is gone." Mabel stated with a greater weariness than ever before.

The floor could have disappeared at that moment and he would not have been more shocked. "Mabel, I…what do you mean?"

"She's gone. Her and Brenda. The police are looking for them, but there was a break in, and now she's gone." Mabel explained as she returned to sowing a button into a sock.

Dipper swallowed. He turned his eyes to the floor, then to the sock, then to Mabel's focused face.

"Well…we need to look for her, once Brenda finds out-"

Mabel placed her hands on Dipper's shoulders with a sigh. "Dipper, I can't do this anymore. Do you understand? I'm done. I am not going to do this anymore. I want to be normal, I want to be safe and happy."  
Dipper had a million retorts. But he didn't say any of them, he just stared into her eyes and realized how deep he had dug himself.

It was easy for her to continue. She had only killed people who had threatened them. She couldn't know. He couldn't let her. She would try to fix him, she would break him down and have him reassembled at the factory for reassembled people.

Dipper tensed, coughed, and nodded. And then, he excused himself.

He went outside, past Stan without a word. He entered the trail, he followed it to the rock, where he and Wendy had lain and named what the passing clouds had reassembled.

And there, he fell to his knees and pressed his palms against his eyes. Had he been further out in the woods, he would have been able to smell the scent of all of Pacifica's photos turning to ash.

 _"I hate seeing you this way,"_ Bill stated. He had appeared at some point over the broken teen. Dipper didn't care when. _"So afraid…so uncertain…It's my fault really…I should have killed Stan Pines when I had a chance."_

Dipper staggered to his feet. The distant bird call had transformed into the mournful ringing of a far-off bell. The sky was blood red, the trees all looked like they had survived a volcanic flow.

"Go fuck yourself." He suggested as he closed his eyes, unwilling to stare at the illusion created by Bill's presence.

Bill snorted at the insult. _"I'm not the one who told you that you could trust me and then betrayed you, Dipper. It's not really their fault of course…everyone gets tired of following the mad visionary after a while."_

"I'm not mad," Dipper claimed as he stared at his reflection in the river. The same river where he and Pacifica had shared a conversation and he had listened to her favorite song. Where Bill had warned him against befriending her.

 _"Let's see here…your parents abandon you with the nearest relative…your uncle lies to keep you around…blondie lies so that she gets her wish, Brenda goes off the deep end…like I said she would when you all were in that cage of yours. Everyone else continues on, they distance themselves. And then your sister realizes that you're a murderer and decides she's done with your games. Seems like six-fingers was right,_ Trust No One _, amiright?"_ Bill asked as he elbowed Dipper in the side.

Dipper couldn't speak. He didn't have to.

 _"I know you think that I murdered your other uncle, killed your parents and possessed your sister…but if I did make a deal with her when she was six, if that diary Red found was real…why didn't she have my mark?"_

Dipper opened his eyes at the revelation. His memory was a mess. Stan had explained that part, hadn't he? But then, he had lied later, so what did it matter?

 _"And…if I recall correctly, wasn't your sister the one that wanted to see Gideon? Wasn't she the one who wanted to get high with a bunch of strangers in a haunted mall? Hey! She was the one who wanted to go to the lake, too! You know…the same one she almost drowned in. And she was the one who wanted to trust Pacifica too…it's almost like people are dumping all their problems on you because your too insecure to stand up for yourself."_ Bill stated, at his most sarcastic.

Dipper's mind was mess. Bill was right…wasn't he? Even if this was a ploy…the assumptions he was making, those were true. They had to be.

"I…I…" Dipper stared at the dirt and realized how totally helpless he was. "I don't know…" he admitted, collapsing in front of Bill.

How could he defend himself if he couldn't tell friend from foe? What if he was crazy? What if he was a danger to his family? What if he was that easily manipulated, that people would use him to hurt people who didn't deserve it?

 _Trust no one. Especially not yourself._

Something like that, right? Dipper's memory was fuzzy. Everything felt fuzzy, in fact.

 _"If only there were a way, a way to guarantee that you received the answers you need to protect yourself...hey! I know a guy named Bill, who started talking in your head, the moment that you got close to Gn'aak, that's been warning you all this time about his plans for destroying everything. I know a guy who gave you a dream about the apocalypse when you first arrived, a guy who was telling you not to trust dear old uncle Stan from the very beginning. A guy who put you in a comma so that Gideon wouldn't murder you…a guy who saved your ungrateful sister's hide a number of times…for free I might add!"_

Bill raised Dipper's chin. _"If only Bill were willing to offer you all the knowledge that you seek in return for you pledging your body to me."_

Dipper shook his head. "I…I can't…"

Bill smirked. _"How do you think The Author figured all that junk out? Sacrifices, kid, that's what life is about. Now…"_ Bill leaned forwards. _"…do you want to be everybody's puppet…or do you want to help me save the world?"_

Dipper swallowed, and realized that Bill was offering his hand.

 _"C'mon, PineTree…you and I both know that you were made for this moment. It's time to grow up and make the tough decisions that adults do on a daily basis."_

Dipper glanced back at The Shack. He glanced back at spending his days, doing the same thing every day for the rest of his life. He glanced back at being driven insane by boredom and a lack of fulfillment. How long before he cracked? How long before he became one of those people on the news channel, who had shot up a school yard because he thinks that the world is out to get him.

Dipper took Bill's hand, and the demon began laughing.

* * *

 **Message: Dnuora skcits ti, erehwyna dael t'nseod ssendam.**

 **Ssendam ot sdael aionarap.**

 **Aionarap ot sdael tliug.**

 **Tliug ot dael sekatsim.**

 **Fereality** :

 _Damn you Fly, damn you..._

 **Darling:** _I asked myself "they can't really kill Wendy, can they?"_

 _But then I remembered who exactly wrote this fanfiction._

 ** _I wanted to kill Wendy that way, since day one. It was one of those things I was looking forward to, like my version of Bill/Bipper. When it came down to it, I felt really bad about it. I really grew to like her while writing that episode._**

 **IsmaelParica** :

 _3) It felt ironic to see Wendy die if anyone asks me. In the beginning she was supposed to protect the twins to a certain extent and then let them die after it, then she was supposed to protect them from the kind of people that would use them for their own selfish reasons (just like her), or maybe just kill them and be done with it; only to end up dying at the hands of one of the twins. Hilarious._

 ** _It was never part of Stan's plan for the twins to die. Just to be endangered and traumatized repeatedly. The risk of death in the last legs of the plan was possible, but them being alive was necessary. Wendy would never have agreed to it otherwise._**

 **Coldblue** :

 _2) What will happen to the Corduroy Family? Will they distant themselves from people, move away from Gravity Falls, or just continue as they been doing BUT mentioning mother and sister Corduroy would be taboo's/fighting words?_

 ** _You are likely to see them at least one more time after this._**

 _10) Are actually aliens or dimensional beings going to communicate humans or the Pines Twins?_

 ** _Bill and Gn'aak are from another dimension and they've been "communicating" with humans for eons._**


	25. S2, E7: Good Intentions

**Happy Hallows Eve everybody!**

* * *

 **Episode 7: Good Intentions**

 _"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." –_ **Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

Dipper never could have imaged the wave on wave of pain as Bill forced his way into Dipper's body. Maybe if the deal had specifically stated that Dipper was giving over control of his body to Bill, then it wouldn't feel like a hot iron spike was being repeatedly thrust through Dipper's skull. However, the deal hadn't been that specific, which meant that Bill had to fight whatever natural instincts refused to abide by his decision.

He writhed on the ground and screamed. Or, he would have screamed, had the air not been knocked out of his lungs by the invisible hands which were rendering every muscle numb.

 _"Relax PineTree, and it'll end much faster..."_ Bill suggested with a chuckle as another bolt of searing pain slammed into Dipper and rippled through his bones.

He couldn't hear himself think. Bill's laughter was too loud; it changed in pitch and distance, with different laughs layering on others as Bill revealed himself to be much _bigger_ than Dipper had believed. Not big in a physical sense, big like how a concept was larger than an individual, big like a shared idea in a thousand brains, all sharing the same objective.

Big as in his own universe.

Dipper couldn't see anything but Bill. The demon was now blocking out the sun from every conceivable angle and consuming the horizon. His eye was a blood red center of everything, in which Dipper could see atomic explosions and chemical waste. He could see knives embedded in backs and improper burials in the dead of night. He tried to close his eyes have tried to run, to pull away, to dig his hands into the dirt.

But he couldn't move anything. His lungs ached as they were used by Bill, but everything else Dipper could control a couple minutes ago, was out of his reach.

Bill giggled his spent and bloody body and ran a hand across Dipper's wet cheeks. For the first time, ever, Dipper could _feel_ Bill as something other than pain and coldness.

And he felt wrong. A type of "wrong" that dragged all he knew underground and beat it all to death with a crowbar. Dipper could still flinch. Bill didn't have hold over all his involuntary reflexes.

 _Yet._

Dipper begged the demon to stop. Bill gave a little shake of his head, told Dipper to quit fighting and enjoy the ride. And then, he continued.

Dipper's last thoughts, before passing out from the trauma, was that he pitied Nathaniel Norwood and any other idiot who had "pledged their body" to Bill. No one deserved this pain.

No one.

 **[0]**

Bill grinned.

Dipper was still awake. He had to be awake for Bill to slip into each cell and instruct him. As always, he gave his new skin bag a little test.

Two steps forward, one step back. Three steps forward. Four steps back. In a circle. Make like your stabbing a hostage. Now pick up that rock and throw it at that squirrel.

The clearing had gone deathly silent with Bill's arrival. The birds grew silent in hopes of being ignored, or else too terrified to move. Only the trick of water provided the idea of movement. That, and Bill's breathing.

It was heavy, like that of a dog. Dipper's brain need oxygen after what it had just experienced, after all.

Bill took a moment for Dipper to catch his breath, before marching the boy back to The Shack. Through Dipper's eyes, he could see the many dimensional layers which the boy had no clue of. The beings which moved on a different vibrational level, to quick or too slow to be seen or detected on any level by the human being. The thoughts of all the nearby humans whispered in his mind and the howling of the many vengeful spirits which inhabited the woods, was annoying enough for Bill to scare them off with a quick incantation.

He could sense Gn'aak, gnawing away at the inhibitions of not just the cluttered lot who followed Fiddleford's demented son, but the entire county. Gn'aak's reach was almost as wide as its hunger, and for that alone, Bill admired it.

He could feel Txfyu'nt assemble timelines of love and joy, of heroism and tragedy, and then shred them when they no longer offered amusement. It infected every instinct, following all travelers down every multi-sided path and choosing who should die rich and unhappy, and who should never be conceived.

Right now, Ne'zzevs slinked through the slimiest corners of the dimension, whispering of innocence-based obsession as she teased meaningless sleaziness through the void till it consumed all thought. And Pvtx'qn was feasting on the fateless, dropping them into pockets of dementia and agony, to wither away and feed its bubbling spite in endless repetition of pained cycles.

Bill had every reason to grin.

 **[0]**

Mabel stared at her unfinished sock puppet's. She had lost the will to continue work on them, with Dipper leaving. She just wanted to make sure that he was okay.  
But he needed his space. He had acted strangely since Wendy's death, and coming to grips with it was something that he clearly wanted to do alone.

Still, she felt the urge to call Gabe and tell him that she couldn't make it, and then go look for Dipper. A thousand and one things could be responsible for him not returning, and the more she sat on her bed, the worse she felt.

"Mabel?"

She looked, up and found Dipper in the doorway, wearing weary smile.

She stood up. "Dipper, I-!"

"No, I want to…I want you to come outside and help me with something." He said, with a spark in his eye.

Mabel frowned and then nodded. "What is it?"

Dipper's smile grew more natural. "It's a surprise."

He led her down the stairs and behind the house, to where a small fire had been constructed out of twigs and branches, on the sand. Next to the fire, was The Journal and Gideon's Tome.

Dipper took a deep breath as Mabel surveyed the scene with growing confusion.

"Mabel, I thought about it…and I realized that I care more about not losing you, then figuring out what's behind all the stuff that has happened to our family. These books…they are making me anxious and obsessed…I can't be happy while they're around. Mabel, I need to get rid of them to make a clean start. If…if that's alright with you."

Mabel frowned. She wanted to disagree, to insist that they keep the books as a back-up plan. But then she thought about the innumerable nights Dipper had spent reading them. She thought about the hours he'd spent taking notes, decoding.

Was he any closer? If there was something that could be found to help defy Bill, then it surely would have been found by now. Right?

Ford had written The Journal…and it had not helped him in the least. And Gideon's Tome had not led him towards anything but hysteria and bloodshed.

How much pain had the information caused? It felt like the books had never helped with anything other than saving Stan and creating the lotion for her scar.

"Mabel?"

The brunette took a deep breath, and then looked her brother in the eye. "You think that this will help you?"

"There's nothing in there I haven't memorized Mabel. And Gideon's Tome is too dangerous if it gets into the wrong hands. I can't live with that pressure Mabel…I'm afraid of what I might do to keep it hidden."

Mabel took a deep breath. And then she picked up Gideon's Tome and tossed it into the flames. The ancient book began to burn without pause, and Mabel watched it go up in flames, releasing a small cloud of white as the ancient mold burned.

Dipper chuckled and wrapped a hand around her shoulders as he picked up The Journal.

"Is the position of Reverend still open for Gabe's play?"

Mabel tried to remember if she had even mentioned Gabe when telling him about the role. She was tired though, and Dipper had always been observant.

"Yup."

Dipper tossed the leather bound red book into the flames, and watched the book which had caused Mabel to become captured by the fey, go up in flames.

"Good. It's been a long time since I was in a play. I'll have to brush off my 'funny accents.'" Dipper said, before chuckling and turning away from the fire.

As Mabel followed Dipper back inside, she felt her heart swell. He was back. She had him back.

Strangely enough, the feeling came with the lurking fear that any moment, she was going to lose him again, any second now.

 **[0]**

Stan called out awkwardly as Dipper opened the front door. "Hey kiddo…where are you going?"

The teen turned towards him, with his eyes lowered. "I asked Mabel what I could do to help with her play, and she told me I should get some food and some drinks."

Stan nodded and paused, a couple feet from the boy who clearly didn't want to have this conversation.

"Listen…kid…I…I'm sorry that I haven't really…I haven't helped you with all the stuff you've been dealing with since…well, you know. I should be more open and moreover, I should talk to you and Mabel before I make choices on your behalf."

Dipper remained motionless.

"I…I was talking with Priscilla because…I needed help assuring that you two were safe. But in hindsight, I-I should have spoken with you too first…"

Dipper swallowed. "That's alright, you did what you had to do."  
Stan shook his head. "No, it's not alright. I don't want to turn into my brother or…my dad." Stan placed a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "Dipper, you know that you don't have to do this, right? It's perfectly natural to relax until you feel more like yourself."

Dipper gave a short smile. "Thanks, but I want to do this. I want to prove to Mabel that she can trust me."

Stan smiled and pulled Dipper into an uncomfortable hug. Then he told Dipper to be careful, and returned to his office, less exhausted at the thought that Dipper had was more self-reliant than Stan had guessed. He relaxed in his seat, and looked up from his desk to find that McGucket was in the doorway.

He was dressed in a sharp brown suit, and wore a red and yellow tie. He was shaking, and had a look which Stan had begun to see on the twins' faces daily.

"Fids, what's the matter?" Stan asked as he stood up and offered his hand. He hadn't realized how much he missed the other's company until this moment.

Fiddleford swallowed and nearly fell into his old friend. As Stan broguth him to the seat in front of his desk and filled a cup with scotch, Fiddleford began to speak.

"I'm afraid that I've done something terrible…" He admitted, eyes red and hands tying knots with his tie.

Stan sat down and offered the drink. "Join the club. Well, go ahead…what is it?"

Fiddleford emptied the glass in one gulp. Then he leaned forward. "I've been trying to stop these things…these umm…otherworldly gods. But I think I've played right into their game. I have this terrible feeling of déjà vu, like at any moment I'm going to…I'm going to…I…your brother I think that we've…I think…I'm going to…" McGucket shivered and then raised his eyes. He smiled. "Stanford, what were we talking about?"

 **[0]**

Bill strode down the side of the road, his hands in his pockets. His eyes searched for targets. He had list of things to do, but he didn't see a reason not to stop and enjoy himself.

Children were clustered inside the arcade, enjoying the laziness of the weekend. Sherriff Finch was across the street, trying to watch for any shady business.

"Dipper?"  
He turned and a grin split across Dipper's face. _Bingo._ "Emma Sue...what a pleasure seeing you on this fine evening."

She frowned at the way he said it. _Man, that girl's death did a number on him_ , she thought. "I just wanted to ask if you, uh…you know…wanted share lunch some time?"

Bill contorted Dipper's features as he sifted through her hopes and dreams, able to examine each in detail. "Is this because you feel bad for me?"

"No! I just…I really, like- _like_ you. You're smart and funny and really…nice."

 _You won't in five minutes, that I can guarantee._ "Then I would love to."

Her face lit up.

"Can I show you something I found in the woods?" Bill asked, as mimicked Dipper's timid dysfunction.

"Of course!"

Bill took her hand, and sensed her inward shiver. She did have the hots for PineTree. A shame, all things considered. It would have been fun to watch Dipper face another romantic failure.

But it would be funner to hear Dipper beg for Bill not to make him carve her up.

"DIPPER!"

Bill looked up and cursed his luck.

Robbie came to a stop next to them, a couple old books under his arm. He was about to launch into some gobbledygook about demons, when he noticed Emma Sue.

"Oh…are you two…busy?"

Emma pulled away. "I'll just…you two have fun. I'll see you tomorrow at the diner, okay?"

Bill nodded and wondered how he was going to punish BrokenHeart for stealing his moment of glory. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

He turned to face BrokenHeart and forced worry. "What's the matter?"

"I just…I've been reading about the effects of demons, and I think that-"

"Could we talk about this, somewhere else?" Bill asked as his fingers began to twitch with desire to inflict.

"Oh, sure…we'll talk about it on the way to my place."

Bill smirked. "Perfect."

Robbie went on to say that he believed that there were demons very close, as much of the behavior which affected the townsfolk, seemed to be a result of their influences. Bill shook Dipper's head in a scholarly way, glad that Dipper had never told Robbie just how close the demons were.

"And you believe this is important…because?" Bill asked as they neared his cottage.

"Well, if we just follow the signs…we're sure to discover where the demons are. And then we can kill them." Robbie responded as he opened the front door and welcomed Bill inside the sparse front hall.

The living room was full of papers. Either beign a mortician was boring, or Robbie started drown in his studies.

" _Kill_ them?" Bill responded, forcing himself to hold back laughter at the thought.

"Yeah. I haven't gotten that bit figured out yet, but there are plenty of references to the way to banish them…you have to kill the person that they are possessing."

Bill nodded as he stepped into the well-lit kitchen, opening the drawer where the knives were being kept. "How could you possibly identify whoever their possessing though?"

BrokenHeart turned towards him as he picked up the mug which he had meant to return to the kitchen sink that morning. "Remember, you told me to look at their ey-"

The older teen stopped when his eyes met Dipper's, and he saw that they had little yellow slivers in their pupils. Dipper's hand raised the steak knife so that it glinted and BrokenHeart finally noticed it. The mug fell and shattered as Bill began to cackle.

"You really are the stupidest person who has ever tried to get in my way. I mean, sure, PineTree is a mental wreck, and ShootingStar is a mindless whore, but you…you take the cake."

He stuttered for words and Bill rounded the kitchen doorway, placing himself between BrokenHeart and the door as he spoke. "Go ahead Robbie…end the nightmare. Kill me." He mimicked Cathy's voice seamlessly. " _Kill Mr. Sweetdreams!"_

He giggled when Robbie remained rooted to the spot.

Without further warning, he leaped forward and embedded his knife in BrokenHeart's shoulder.

 **[0]**

The man had been freed from his prison, only to be placed back in another one. He had awoken in a deep underground complex, surrounded by insane individuals who jeered and screamed at him.

He dug his hands into his scalp as he wondered if freedom would ever be his.

Then he noticed the teenage girl across the hall from him. She had pressed her hands against the glass of her cell and licked her lips as she watched him.

He grew more and more uncomfortable with her eyes on him, and shrunk away from sight. Her smile just widened and she began to mouth something.

Without a second thought, the chant began to be picked up.

"HE'S ALMOST HERE!" The cellmates to left and right of him screamed into the wall.

Louder. And louder. Soon, it felt like everyone in the complex was screaming the three, ominous words.

"HE'S ALMOST HERE! HE'S ALMOST HERE! HE'S ALMOST HERE!"

The girl smiled at him and drew a finger across her neck.

 **[0]**

Two hours later, Robbie was naked and bound to his mother's antique chair via the handcuffs which Bill had snagged from Stan's office. He was confined to his sister's old room, and covered in wounds from Bill's knife play.

Of course, Bill had no intention of allowing his plaything to die of blood loss, so he bound each wound with an article of clothing to staunch the flow. Not before he cauterized the blow by pouring beer on it and giggling at Robbie's whimpering.

After Bill got tired of the hearing his victim scream, he gagged him with a rag and duct taped it in place.

He slapped Robbie once when he was about to pass out and said "Don't give out on me now buddy…we're just getting started."

Finally, when he had grown bored of the exercise, Bill stood up and wiped his hands off on Robbie's untouched stomach. Then he smiled and stepped closer, closing his hands-on Robbie's hair and pulling the man's eyes up to meet his own burning ones.

"I hope that you've learned your lesson BrokenHeart, because the next time that you come between me and my victim, you're going to join your momma and pa in hell. I'm going to let you suffer here, because I want you to continue living…traumatized and useless to everyone. That way it'll be that much better when you know who comes around to collect."

Bill lowered his hand and cupped Robbie's amber medallion. He had not removed it once during the "session", and now grinned down at Robbie knowingly. His fingers opened a cut on Robbie's thigh and he smeared the blood over the medallion as Robbie reeled and sobbed.

"Just as it should be." Bill said as he poured beer back on the cut, and returned the makeshift bandage to its place.

He laughed on the way out, washing his hands in the bathroom and walking out the front door with a spring in his step.

 **[0]**

Candy awoke in a doze. She was lying on a bed, in a damp room, lit only by the lamp on the bedside table, with a fan circling above.

A familiar girl sat in a chair, between her and the slightly ajar door.

Candy discovered that she was dressed in a gown, and had a bandage wrapped around her arm. Her arm ached, as her brain struggled to figure out why she was here.

She wanted to go home. She just wanted to be safe.

The familiar girl snored a little, and Candy swallowed, before slipping out of bed. She tipped toed by the familiar girl, the balls of her feet freeing against the creaky boards.

She glanced at the familiar girl again, her stomach sinking. She was so beautiful.

But Candy didn't belong here. This place scared her, and just because the girl was beautiful, didn't mean she wouldn't do something terrible to Candy.

She gripped the door handle and eased it open, in time for a tall man in a cap to smile at her. He said something in a language she didn't understand, with a sick humor that she did.

Candy screamed, and backed away from him, this time knocking into the familiar girl. The familiar girl said something in a language she didn't understand as well, and drew a hand across Candy's head.

Candy didn't understand her, but she knew the intent of the message.

 _Don't worry, you're safe._

She shrunk away from them both, confining herself to the corner of the room and wrapping her hands around her knees as they discussed her, both staring at her with folorn or disappointed expressions.

They turned, and under advisement from the man leering man, the familiar girl must have locked the door, for the 'click!' rang out through the shabby room. Candy grabbed the spring-bed's one pillow and pressed her face into it.

This wasn't right; it wasn't supposed to be this way. She could feel that in her heart.

She didn't like it here.

She wanted to go home.

 **[0]**

Gabe didn't like Mabel's brother. He talked to himself, which was disconcerting enough. But he kept looked almost hungry and he kept averting Gabe's vision. With his hair obscuring much of his face, he almost looked creepy, especially when he moved in such a stilted and disoriented way.

"Mabel, your brother…he's acting kind of strange…" Gabe stated as Mabel assembled the puppets.

She looked up with surprise. "What do you mean?"

Gabe licked his lips. He hated the idea of making her feel bad, and was terrified that if he insulted her twin, she might walk out right then and there and never talk to him again.

"I just…he just seems, I don't know…tired and stressed…I'm not sure that he should do this."

Mabel stood up and steppe close enough that Gabe's heart started thumping. "He's been through a lot…I just…please give him a chance."

Gabe's unease disintegrated at her hope. She clearly believed her brother could handle this. And even if Dipper was a little off, the worst thing he could do was get stage fright. Flubbing a line didn't matter much for an audience of toddlers.

"Alright. I'm sorry for worrying you." Gabe apologized.

Mabel smiled. "Don't. If I were in your position, I'd probably have said the same thing. I can talk to him if you want."

"No, I've caused enough trouble as it is. Forget I said anything." Gabe responded, giving her a smile.

Casey stepped into the room. "Guys, we need to start in five minutes."

Nodding, Gabe turned to Mabel. "Have you done this before?"

"Nope." She admitted.

"Impossible to mess it up."

"Yeah, sis. Break a leg." Dipper said as he approached, still obsessing over fixing his collar. He cut quite the figure in the reverend costume, his sneakers traded out for roughed up dance shoes and his vest replaced with the overcoat. Without his hat, his hair gave him a scruffy appearance.

She smiled at them both, before picking up her puppets and heading out of the backroom and into the library.

Dipper finished with his collar and watched Mabel leave in a manner that, had Gabe not known better, he would have defined as "pervy."

"You remember all your lines?" Gabe checked, as Dipper began to walk in circles and repeat a couple words in an unnerving mutter.

"Every one. I don't forget things." Dipper confirmed as he kept his eyes on his feet and continued in the circle, not appearing to become dizzy in the slightest.

"Good." Gabe responded as he turned away, noting that Mabel had to be a saint for putting up with her brother's antics.

"How much do you want her?" Dipper asked as he began circling by crossing his feet and moving backwards. He did it with the kind of ease that most acrobatics couldn't boast of.

Gabe turned to him, wondering if Dipper had extreme ADHD or some similar disorder. "What?"

"Do you want her enough to commit a crime? Do you want her enough to humiliate yourself? Do you want her enough that you could go a year without touching her, if it meant that she belonged to you?" Dipper asked with the kind of grin that made Gabe's stomach fall.

"Look, I would prefer if we didn't talk about this." Gabe retaliated, hoping that Dipper would shut up after that.

"I was just asking, because of that look in your eyes whenever she's nearby. I'm sure I don't need to give you the 'don't hurt her speech.'"

Gabe ignored him.

"You are going to hurt her no matter what. That's fine. Pain is what defines us. Fear of that pain is what guides us towards excellence."

"You're wrong," Gabe stated.

Dipper giggled, and asked, "What about?"

But Gabe wasn't paying attention. He had moved to the doorway and was watching as Mabel did funny voices for Mr. Mouse and Miss Shrew.

"Words are cheap Benson. Prove me wrong and I'll buy you a sandwich."

Gabe ignored him and tried to concentrate on Mabel.

"'Looks like we'll be getting married then.'" Mr. Mouse said.

"My cue." Dipper said as he marched out the doorway. Gabe watched him leave with more than a little relief. The way he talked…it was not the way that most people talked and it wormed its way into his mind, echoing there and disrupting positive thought.

"'I suppose we'll need a preacher then.'" Said Miss Shrew, the kindergarteners giggling at Mabel's old lady voice.

"Did someone say a preacher?" Asked Dipper as he stepped into view and quicky descended the two carpeted stairs into the play area ring.

He perfectly mimicked a booming, southern man, and the toddlers grew uproarious at the way that he strutted and bobbed, kneeling in front of the puppets, and removing a prop-bible from his jacket pocket.

"Now, do you Mr. Mouse…take this shrew to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health?" Dipper asked with one raised eyebrow.

"'I do!'"

Dipper turned to the other puppet and Mabel beamed up at him from behind the carboard wall. "And do you, Miss Shrew take this mouse to be your lawfully wedded husband, till death do you part?"

Mabel frowned at the death part. She wasn't sure that was in the script. Of course, she played along with hardly a pause. "'I do! I do! I DO!'"

Miss Shrews excitement caused the toddlers to laugh and put their hands up to their faces with cheers.

Dipper smirked and stood up. He lay down the faux-bible and reached into the pocket of his slacks. "Then by the power vested in me, by the unthinkable godly forces, I.E. the state of Oregon…I pronounce you…"

He removed one of the needles which Mabel had been using to create her puppets. "Man and wife."

As the needle was plunged into Dipper's left eye, Bill cackled louder than ever.

 **[0]**

It was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. It was too strange and traumatizing to be anything else.

Mabel sat perfectly still as Dipper laughed, blood squirting down the side of his face as he surveyed the traumatized toddlers. She couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

He turned to face her. "What's the matter, sister? Don't you always say that you want me to 'lighten up'?" He clutched his chest as he fell into a new round of laughter, and saliva fell out of his gaping mouth as all his movements became jagged and wretch-inducing.

Mabel just watched.

He tore the needle out of his eye and turned back to the fleeing toddlers and their shouting parents. "Aw, c'mon kiddies…don't leave so soon!" He paused and that wretched grin stretched back over his twisted features. "Doesn't anyone want to be a pirate like me?"

Gabe knocked him to the ground and forced the needle out of his hand. Dipper didn't fight, he just kept laughing. Why wouldn't he stop laughing?

"Mabel, call the police while I hold him down," Gabe screamed as he pinned Dipper's arms to the carpeting.

Dipper smirked and spoke in a soft whisper. "Relax, buddy…it's all part of the plan."

Gabe's hands tightened. "What the hell are you talking abou-?"

"Move away from him."

Gabe raised his head and found that Agent Lockhart had entered the room, his gun fixed on Dipper. He was accompanied by two SWATT members, both of which were covering the exits and equipped with SMGs.

Gabe looked back at the one-eyed Dipper, who only chuckled. "Better do as the big man says. Unless you want to end up like Gorney."

Gabe went pale and fell off Dipper, staggering across the floor and putting an arm between Mabel and the cackling maniac as Agent Lockhart turned Dipper over and handcuffed him. Only with Dipper's mention of the name, did Mabel remember all the "MISSING" posters of the boy who had sat next to her in her Algebra class for two weeks.

Suddenly, energy rushed into her limbs, and Mabel leaped to her feet. She pushed Gabe aside and rushed towards Dipper and his captors. One of the men in armor turned and fixed his gun on her. She paused and then glanced at Agent Lockhart.

Gabe was trying to drag her away from them. He was trying to console her, to convince her that they would know what to do.

But she could only focus on her brother. "NO! Please! Don't take him away again!"

Agent Lockhart winced but just moved towards the automatic doors faster. Mabel raised her hand, prepared to unleash hell on the hard-working men who were just doing their job, in the name of keeping her brother.

But as Lockhart passed by the front desk, his hands tensing to drag his mutilated prisoner, Dipper began humming a tune which made her heart stutter.

 _When you wish upon a star._

Mabel called Stan over and over as the police tried to get a statement from Gabe and the terrified librarian, each time receiving a recording.

 **[0]**

"So, I guess watching a couple of teens in an ongoing murder investigation does pay off, eh?" Dipper asked as he leaned against the wall of the van.

Agent Lockhart remained silent, watching the boy's body language as a man in a white suit cleaned and bandaged the teen's ruined eye.

Dipper cocked the eyebrow above his working eye as he spoke. "You've been watching the Pines twins ever since you accidentally killed your partner, and yet…it's funny how with all that money and manpower, you still weren't there to save that unfortunate, defenseless redhead from The Shapeshifter."

Lockhart's jaw twitched. Then he cracked a smile. "I knew you would crack eventually. The stuff your family is into…it's unnatural. It would drive anyone mad."

Dipper's smile grew smaller and he began to speak in a much less over the top, smug voice. "So, did you let her die to get me back for what happened to Gray, or are you just as terrible at your job as every other government employee?"

Lockhart turned away.

Dipper closed his eyes and began to speak in a low, ominous voice, repeating the same four words repeatedly. The van rattled and Lockhart got up, if not just to get rid of the itching which had begun to cover his neck.

"Careful up there!" He yelled at the driver, before returning to his seat.

Dipper ceased his chant, and his eye opened, with only the white revealed. He smiled again and started to speak in a voice that nearly made Lockhart faint.

 _"Hey twerp, nice fuckup."_

Lockhart stood up and the doctor turned to him, asking if everything was alright. Lockhart ignored him and spoke with hands shaking at his holster as Dipper grinned up at him. "How did you…how…I…"

 _"What's the matter twerp? Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm not disappointed."_ Dipper looked him up and down, his eye still just whites. _"You've got a suit and a gun, but you're still the same retarded little prick."_

Lockhart removed his gun. "Stop it! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

Dipper inhaled and his voice shifted again. _"JAKE! JAKE! GET THEM OFF ME! OH GOD JAKE!"_ At this point, Dipper's voice shifted again, to mimic the sounds of flesh and bone being torn apart.

Lockhart turned off the safety and pressed the barrel to Dipper's forehead. "One more word. One…more…word."

The doctor placed his hand on Lockhart's hand and spoke, his eyes concealed by a gas mask. "Sir, please put the gun away."

Of course, he had his own, aimed at Lockhart's stomach.

Dipper closed his eye again, and when he opened it, Lockhart could see the yellow in the black glimpse into Dipper's skull.

He spoke in a perfect imitation of Lockhart. _"_ _Listen to me you little punk, there's no such thing as demons, just like there's no angels or Gods. I've been wasted my life studying this fucking valley and I think I would know if Satan and his buddies were just screwing around with us."_

Lockhart turned on the safety on his gun and sat back down. He returned his gun to its holster and covered his face with both hands.

Dipper grinned as the man fought back sobs of frustration and confusion.

"Relax, Jakey-boy, we're almost home."

 **[0]**

Stan tore out his car and waded through the crowd, his elbows extended in the crowd control psychology which his brother had taught him. Anyone who didn't hear or see him coming, was lightly shoved ignored. He had been panic-stricken since receiving Mabel's call. She had been too distraught to even hear him, and her call had ended with ominous cut off.

McGucket peddled behind him, gaze downturned. They both came to a stop when they saw Mabel, crouched in the back of Keg's sheriff car.

Her face was tear stained, and her eyes were removed of all emotion. She was bleeding from the nose.

Stan stomped towards her, his teeth gritted. McGucket called out for him to slow down, but he refused the shorter man's logic.

Finch turned to him like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and then gathered himself together. He was spindly man, having being given Durland's position under less than opportune circumstances. New to the Gravity Falls looming tragedy, he was a nervous wreck, and Stan's anger forced him to suck it up.

"Pines. I don't have time for-!"

"She's coming with me." Stan responded.

Finch sulked. He was a full head shorter than Stan, and his ranger hat only served to accentuate his baldness. It was clear that he was on the weak minded, the Norwood's wouldn't have chosen him for the role.

He folded his arms as he spoke. "No. She's coming to the station. When I'm done asking her questions… _then_ she can go home."

Stan stepped closer, his hands forming fists as he took the same stance that had served him well in a thousand brawls. "Now listen to me your pathetic little power junkie, she's been through a traumatic incident. She's coming home with me. You can come by later and ask her questions."

Finch brought his hand to his waist. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back and calm down Pines. I'm just following orders, but I've got no problems with jailing you for threatening a police officer."

Stan's teeth ground together. Then he took a deep breath and his eyes narrowed. "How does it feel…knowing that you're just a pawn?"

That sent him over the edge. "Alright, that's it Pines! I don't have to take this-this bullying from you! Either you clear out, or I take you in."

McGucket grabbed Stan's arm, and tugged him away before the old man could sling another insult. "Come on, Leland." McGucket said as he dragged Stan to their car. "We'll talk with her at the station. Don't worry, she'll be fine."

Stan glanced back at Mabel, hoping she might turn to him, so that he could give her a hopeful smile. But she didn't move.

 **[0]**

Bill sat cross-legged in his cell. Outside the window, two guards stood, each equipped with enough tranquilizer to kill a horse. They were each wearing helmets, boots, and thick, black jackets, with dozens of pockets.

His hands were bound behind his back, and his feet were chained to his metal seat. Bandages shielded half of his face from sight, concealing the gruesome mark he had inflicted on himself.

"Could you please loosen these restraints?" He asked the guards.

They ignored him.

He took a deep breath and then leaned forward. He began speaking in a monotonous, even voice, the opposite of the attempted shouts of his gagged fellow prisoners.

"Crawling up the stairs. Friend in the subway. Festering in the breadbox. Impossible to wipe out." He said without a change in tone once.

The guards glanced at one another and one banged on the glass. "Quiet in there!"

"Off the beaten path. Kick in the door. Playing with matches. Calls from the kindergarten. Wrong answer." He continued.

The second guard turned back to the window. "SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"We don't like your kind around here. Trim the fat. Dropped the groceries. Vertigo in action. Drowning's not so bad."

Fuming, the first guard slid his card in the lock, and opened the cell. The two of them strode inside, and the second punched Bill across the nose. "Shut the fuck up, or we'll gag you."

Bill spat out the blood and raised his face, now smiling. "Can't get the smell off. Favors for cash. Bruises on the wrist. Vacation in a rubber room. Brakes fail. Bye-bye baby." The guards shook and one of them turned off the safety on his rifle.

Bill licked his lips before speaking. "I have friends _everywhere_. If you don't loosen these restraints, right now, then everything I just described…is going to be your life. And the life of your families. And the life of your friends. And _their_ friends."

The guards stared at him for a long moment. Then, they each bent. Bill slid his already free hands to the first guard's ankle and tore the pistol from the holster there. He shot both guards in the head and used the second guard's keys to unlock his legs. Then he opened the door to his cell with the first guard's keycard.

With some effort, he dragged each corpse out into the hall. By this time, alarms were blaring and guards were rushing towards him. He ignored them, instead tearing off his bandages and diving his fingers into the mutilating flesh beneath. When he had enough blood, he drew a circle around the two bodies and began chanting in a dead language.

By the time that barrels were poised on him, the building was already shaking. He raised his hands above his head as instructed, but continued to chant beneath his breath.

"Now put the gun down and put your hands behind your back." One of the guards ordered.

Bill did just that, and the guard marched over to put handcuffs on him.

The dead bodies were consumed by a thousand cracked teeth as an avatar of Ti'zn, Maw of the Elders was summoned into the world. It was red and brown, with pumpkin sized teeth and no eyes. A dozen contracting holes were on its backside to assist in its feasting. It roared loud enough to shatter the glass on the security cameras, and wiggled forward on its five, undersized stalks.

It's tentacle like tongues grabbed guards and tossed them into its gaping mouths, as bullets failed to deter the being.

The next few moments were hell.

The monster which Bill had summoned, devoured nine guards over the course of five minutes. It then tore through a wall, breaking open several cells (and eating the inmates inside). Bill meanwhile, was busy walking up to the keypad on the wall and inputting the password.

The rest of the cell clicked open, and lunatics charged free. Screaming, twirling, lurching maniacs, trampling over one another to escape Ti'zn.

Bill used this distraction to enter the elevator, override the emergency shutdown, and ride it to the bottom floor.

There he walked out onto the empty testing floor (everyone had evacuated by now), and grinned at his reflection in the side of The Machine. He grinned at the beautifully designed gateway to madness and moved inside it. He opened a tiny compartment within the machine, and pressed the two buttons inside in a twelve-piece combination.

Then he slipped out of the arch of the machine, and turned to the control panel. He gripped the lever and yanked it.

He frowned, and pulled the lever again.

Still no response came.

"You really thought that I'd let you get away with this?" McGucket asked while stepping out from behind the machine. He fixed a tranquilizer pistol on Bill as he marched forward. "The moment Lockhart called me about you, I figured out your plan."

Bill grinned as he began to read the man's mind. "You unplugged it." He stated while glancing at The Machine.

"I would have destroyed it if I could." McGucket responded as he drew closer, forcing Bill to start backing away.

Bill smirked. "How does it feel to know that you helped build the apocalypse?"

McGucket let out a long breath. And then he shot Bill in the leg.

He spoke as the toxin began to shut down Dipper's body, and Bill collapsed to his knees. "Shut your trap."

 **[0]**

 **To be continued…**


	26. S2, E8: Re-Union

**Episode 8: Re-Union**

 **So, plans have changed. I've decided to go in a different direction than usual. Thus, I may go back on certain promises which I made. That's just the reality of it, I hope that you guys are still happy with how everything turns out.**

 _"Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection." –Arthur Schopenhauer_

 **[0]**

Someone was praying.

It was Father Nathaniel, at his left. But it was also Tambry, she was on his right, choking down sobs. Funny, considering that she had never shown the inclination towards religious views before this.

Robbie opened his eyes and glanced between them. They sat on either side of his hospital bed, with Tambry clutching his bandaged hand. He was in too much pain to speak, but he hoped that his eyes conveyed his confusion.

Apparently, they didn't because neither chose to explain why Father Nathaniel was there.

Tambry's wet eyes focused on him and she began speaking. Robbie could barely hear her, but could tell that she was relieved at his awakening. Had she thought he would die? No, she hadn't called for Father Nathaniel, out of fear he would need someone to say some words over his body. The man must have been the one to find him, a gagged, bloody mess. Nathaniel did stop by the mortuary every now and again, mostly unwanted.

No, she was crying because this was the third time, wasn't it? She was crying because she didn't think she could deal with this anymore. It was too much for her.

He should have known that. He should have broken it before she got her heart broken, when he inevitably fell out of his league.

After a little while, Nathaniel insisted that she get some sleep. It was the middle of the night. Of course, how could Robbie not have realized that earlier?

Robbie closed his eyes as they moved to the doorway, and the image of Dipper grinning up at him, returned to mind. He shuddered and opened his eyes rather than face the demon again.

Nathaniel shut the door and returned to Robbie's side. He took a deep breath and removed his Bible. "Do you remember any of the things I preached when you were only a child?"

Robbie shook his head and winced at the crick in his neck created.

"Well, I believe I mentioned something about demons and angels…and of course…I believed every word I said. Now, I need you to tell me where the demon who did this to you, went."

Robbie's eyes widened. Nathaniel sighed and ran a hand over his forehead before speaking. He suddenly looked twice as old, and twice as pained. "Let's just say…I've seen this torture enacted before. It's heathen…it needs to be stopped. Now…where is the demon?"

Robbie swallowed and looked away.

"It must be stopped before it does this again…or worse."

Robbie couldn't bear that thought.

"Stan Pines' house." He croaked, refusing to look Nathaniel in the eyes.

Nathaniel nodded. "Do not worry. This is not the first time that we have been forced to exorcise a demon from a soul."

Robbie wetted his mouth and remembered his sister's words. Her specific warning. It was most likely too late, Bill would have already released whatever power was going to destroy the world.

He had failed. He was unable to save Dipper, to save anyone for that matter. He was useless.

He closed his eyes and released the tension in all his muscles. Sleep didn't come early quick enough.

 **[0]**

Dipper opened his eye. He was sitting in the pantry, tied to one of the kitchen chairs. His hands were bound to hurting, and a bright light shown from the kitchen into his dark cell. He could see Stan's kitchen past the light.

Wave of pain was spreading through his body, making it hard for him to articulate words. So, he spat up a little, winced a little more, and then mumbled out a warning. He'd been given a temporary reprieve from the insanity of his mind co-existing with Bill's, was enough for him to collapse against his restraints.

His head felt like the victim of a jackhammer. His fingers and toes felt numb. His ear canals ached from exposure to that toothed nightmare which Bill had summoned inside the SBE building.

The spot where McGucket had shot him with a dart hurt even more than his stabbed eye socket. This was because had been treated with so much anesthetic that the strange energy and shapes he'd seen while commanded by Bill, had mixed with hallucination. It was a piercing pain that refused to leave.

He swallowed and rocked half an inch. Whoever had tied him up, they had done it with biting care. Sweat trailed from Dipper's bandaged skull, causing the injury to itch more than ever.

He ceased his escape attempts when he heard his sister's muffled voice. She was talking with someone…someone who should have been familiar.

 _Stan_. Of course, the old man had the same loud rasp of anxiousness and exasperation which Dipper had come to know from his many arguments.

He could discern what either of them were saying, but he could tell that Stan was scared. That was never a good sign.

It occurred to him as he listened, what a terrible idea it was to attempt escape. If they now knew of Dipper's deal, then Bill would have no need for them. Dipper didn't feel like thinking at the moment, but he especially didn't feel like thinking about how Bill might get creative with torturing his uncle and sister.

The ropes around his wrists might be the only reason that he still had some family to speak of.

Dipper spat out a little more blood and raised his head to peer at the chipped door in front of him. He didn't feel like thinking. He didn't feel like being alive in fact.

There was too much pain. Too much to think about. Too much to regret.

He lowered his head and let out a splintered sob. "I'm sorry Wendy…"

The argument was paused, and Mabel opened the pantry door. She stared inside, and her sympathy was crushing.

He didn't deserve it. He looked away from her.

"Dipper…" She called in such a broken and weary voice that Dipper felt his heart skip a beat.

"…why?" She asked.

A familiar tingling began to creep through his body, and Dipper only got to whwimper before Bill forced himself back into Dipper's body.

The wisps of energy, the brimming thoughts, and the warped view of reality returned to sight and Bill played Dipper's vocal chords and moved his lips to answer Mabel's question.

 _"I guess I just got tired of listening to you bitch about everything."_ Bill replied with a grin.

Mabel didn't look shocked at Bill's answer, she just repeated her question, now addressing the demon. "Why? Why are you doing this to us? What did we ever do to you?"

Bill giggled but didn't answer.

Stan pulled Mabel away from her twin, and Dipper instantly missed her warmth and comfort. Then Stan knealt in front of his nephew, forced his jaws open, and stuffed a rag inside. He tied the rag around the back of Dipper's skull, and stood back up. Without another word, he slammed shut the pantry door, plunging the room into darkness.

Bill chuckled.

 **[0]**

"We can't keep him locked up forever!" Appealed Mabel.

Stan closed the kitchen window shudders and turned to her with a scowl. "Alright then, why don't you tell me what we're supposed to do with him!"

Mabel shrunk and lowered her eyes at his bite. Stan's rage decayed, and he took a deep breath. Then he moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her.

"Don't worry. We'll think of something. We'll think of something…"

Mabel shook her head against his chest. "This is my fault…this is all my fault…I'm so, sorry…"

"No, it's not. I'm the adult in this situation, I should have known when something was wrong." Stan responded.

Mabel sniffed. "But I let him burn the books…I helped him. If we had them…maybe…"

Stan shook his head. "You couldn't have known."

He pulled back. "Why don't you go lie down. I'll call a few people who might be able to help."

Mabel didn't feel like sleeping. She didn't feel like eating either. And she was afraid if she lay down, she might never wake up.

But she nodded and retreated upstairs. As she lay down, she stared at the spot where Dipper's bed had once been. Now he was locked up like an animal. Now she was afraid he might break free and hurt himself even more.

McGucket had brought him in, sedated and restrained, speaking in such a stone-faced manner, that she knew Bill must have done something else terrible. She hadn't dwelled on the fact that McGucket was working with the people who had kidnapped Dipper and shot her grandfather. He had left within five minutes, claiming that he was need "back at the base."

Stan had been more distressed about this than her, after all, the two were each other's only friends. But Mabel had seen something in the man's eyes, something which would not argue.

He had wanted to kill Dipper.

He had seen what Bill had done in Dipper's body (something terrible, something that made her feel queasy when she involuntairly imagined what it was) and he refused to allow that horrible thing to occur again. If not for his friendship with Stan, she was sure he would have outright killed her brother and made it look like an accident.

She realized as she stared at the ceiling, that there was only one person left in her life, who she could call to help them. Robbie wasn't picking up, while Brenda and Candy were god knows where. She dialed the familiar number, and chewed her lip as she held her phone to her ear.

 _"Hi! You've reached Pacifica Norwood. Leave a message and I'll catch you on the flipside!"_

The beep which followed felt eternal.

"Hi, Paz…it's Mabel…I wanted to call and I…I need to apologize for what I said to you…I need to…I need to talk to you. Dipper did something awful and I…" Her voice cracked.  
"…Dipper needs your help. Please come soon." She closed her phone and covered her face and felt a new wave of agony strike as the words she had yelled at Pacifica echoed in her head.

 _You make me feel physically ill._

She shuddered, clutched her head, and prayed for the blonde to arrive soon.

A knock came at the front door. Good. Better to move, to be forced to interact with the world out of fear than to lie in place and contemplate her own weakness.

As she descended the stairs, she heard Gabe's voice. He was worried. Very worried.

That was natural. A natural person would have been absolutely shaken by watching a boy stab his own eye.

That was the worst bit. That Mabel had seen so much wrongness, that this didn't crush her. Instead, it only bruised. Everything felt like a bruise now.

Stan replied to Gabe's questions in a tired reassurance, and Mabel realized she didn't want to come down and hug him. How could she? Her brother was being tortured by a demon right now, and her attraction to Gabe, was connected to the reason.

So, instead of coming closer to either of them, she sat down at the base of the staircase and listened. When the front door closed (there was no way that Stan was letting Gabe inside while Dipper was in the other room), Mabel felt something in her break free.

She stood and moved through the kitchen and down the back hall. Dipper must have had notes. There had to be some way to end this.

Yes, Bill probably would have destroyed those notes too. But Mabel had to try before anything else.

 **[0]**

McGucket moved through the chaos, his eyes fixed on one of the prisoners who had surrendered themselves immidetely. It was a young man, with a familiar haircut and square jaw. He was nervously glancing back and forth at his fellow inmates, and occasionally asking the nearest guard about the monster which Bill had used to escape.

Everyone was confined to the fourth level now, stuffed with the plants and fungi held there which were not in need of a cell and the testing areas where they were normally experimented on. Reinforcements were on their way, to help deal with the monstrosity which had caused the prison break to begin.

But whatever panic Fiddleford should have felt at watching everything unravel, was ignored as he drew closer to the man. A smile spread across his wrinkled face as a name popped to mind.

"FORD!"

The man looked up, not because he recognized the name, but because Fiddleford was dashing towards him. Fiddleford stretched his thin arms around the beefy man as tears came to his eyes.

Everything came back to him as his aged body clung to Ford's equally old body. All the sleepless nights they had spent working on things that they had only ever dreamed of in college. Everything that they discovered, forcing them to expand their collective understanding of the universe. Everything that they had unleashed, forcing them further and further apart.

That bit had been mostly McGucket's doing.

There was still a blank spot, years still missing from his memory. But Fiddleford didn't care. He was drowned in love, sorrow, and self-hatred. And all that came out in his broken voice.

"I thought Bill had killed you…" Fiddleford whispered as he struggled with the urge to burst into tears.

The man stood, and when Fiddleford stepped back, embarrassed by the sweeping emotion which had taken hold. Ford smiled.

"Fiddleford…" He looked Fiddleford up and down and blinked a couple times, before starting to speak. "I…I…the last thing I remember was…feeling a bullet…enter my head. I was in a cell…Fiddleford…I don't know how long…"

Fiddleford shook his head, pulling his best friend back into an embrace. He didn't need to test him to make sure. This wasn't some trick, some dream. This was Ford.

The nightmare was over. Everything was as it should be.

"Shhh…shhh…we'll talk about all that in due time." He guaranteed, hating the idea of the blossoming optimism in his chest to be stepped on by the harsh reality.

It didn't matter anymore. All of it.

Ford was back.

 **[0]**

Mabel was still digging through Dipper's room when Stan got the call. She was getting more and more desperate, so it was probably best he started screaming.

But not in fear or rage like usually. This was the first time that Mabel had heard her uncle scream in joy. And it was joy. He sounded like a man stuck on a desert island, watching as a ship approach his sandbar.

He burst into Dipper's room and hugged her, laughing and crying all at once.

"He's alive! He's alive!"

Mabel waited for him to return her to the ground, to ask who "he" was.

Stan was laughing his ass off when she asked, but when he finally processed the question, he must have doubled in happiness. "Your uncle. Your other uncle…my brother…FORD! He's alive! I don't know how but he…he's at the compound"

Stan took a deep breath and his joy was replaced with concern. "I need to go get him. I need to make sure he's safe."

He grabbed her shoulders. "You can watch after your brother until I get back…right?"

Mabel nodded.

"Don't let anyone in. Call me if anything goes wrong or anyone comes by. I'm sorry…I just…"

"You need to make sure he's safe." Mabel ended.

Stan smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks, kid. I knew I could trust you."

He entrusted her with a magnum pistol and kissed her lightly on the cheek. And Mabel understood. Ford would know what to do. Ford would know how to save Dipper.

She watched Stan pull out of the driveway, and speed through the parking lot and onto the road. She was broken from her daze, only when a knock came from the backdoor.

She brought the magnum to her hip and moved to the door, knowing that whoever it was, must have been waiting for Stan to leave.

As she inched to the door, she called out trying to sound threatening.

From the other side, came one of the most pitiful voices she would ever hear.

"It's Brenda! Please, Mabel…I…I screwed up…I need your help."

Mabel let out a breath and slid the chain on the door open. She opened the door a crack and then stepped aside to allow Brenda inside. The taller girl had tangled hair and back spots beneath her eyes. The flesh on the inside of her split lip was revealed by the light fixture which illuminated the room.

She nearly collapsed at the kitchen table, her voice cracking as she admitted being in over her head. "I didn't want it to be this way, Mabel…I don't want Candy in the asylum…but I can't take care of her anymore. She's scared of me…she's scared of everything. I can't keep working for Tate either…every day I end more of a mess…"

Mabel sat down next to Brenda and tried not to allow the heat in her throat to speak for her. She could place some of the blame of Dipper making a deal with Bill, on Brenda's shoulders for attacking him and kidnapping her girlfriend.

But when she looked at the taller girl she saw somebody trapped, someone who was _still_ her friend.

"I'm sorry I didn't come in earlier…I was afraid your uncle might shoot me…or call the cops." Brenda admitted, her bandaged hands twitching against the table.

Mabel took a deep breath, before speaking. "My other uncle…he...he's alive. If he doesn't have a cure for what Candy is experiencing…then it's time to put her in the hands of professionals. And if you need to hide from some people…I'm sure that Stan will help you make a new life in a different town…if I talk to him about it."

Brenda licked her lips. She wanted to reject the plan, for how much it gave up. But when she turned to speak, Mabel continued.

"You need to retreat sometimes, Brenda…you need to let go."

Brenda swallowed and then nodded solemnly.

Mabel lead her sleep deprived, aching friend, into the living room, and allowed her to collapse on the couch.

And it was as she pulled a blanket over Brenda, that a knocking came from the front door.

 _Pacifica._ Mabel thought as she dashed towards the front of The Shack.

When she opened the door, a bald man, in a blue shirt, was standing there, watching her from behind his futuristic goggles.

 **[0]**

Stan was allowed inside the compound under "Special Permission." He was only restricted from running through the halls of the SBE building by the guards to either side of him. He had to move at a moderate pace so that his escorters were able to keep up with him.

They brought him into the elevator, and both remained silent as he stood in the center of the moving platform, panting with anxiety like a dog. He dove out of the elevator and charged through the crowded temporary holding area.

There in the center of the room, stood his brother, accompanied by McGucket and Agent Lockhart. When Ford saw him, his face lit up. He looked just like he had, the day he'd died. His gray hair was messy, his eyes inset, and his lips were cracked. He was wearing a pair of jeans which must have been provided by the SBE, as his pants were always dirty and unkempt. Ford had never liked to focus on anything other than work, and if Stan had a nickel for every time he called the movement of wash a "waste of brainpower" then he'd drive a much more recently constructed car.

Stan paused in front of him, at a loss for words.

Then he grabbed him by the arms and pinned him against the wall of a cubical. Ford's eyes widened and he gagged as Stan applied the side of his arm over his brother's throat.

"I don't care if you're a demon or some undead thing or a robot. But you've got five seconds to reveal yourself because I watched my brother die and I buried him." Stan said in a harsh whisper.

Ford smiled. "It's great to see you too."

"Please, he's the real thing!" Fiddleford claimed, pulling uselessly against Stan's arm. "I know it's hard to believe but-"

Stan ignored his friend. "No! I'm not going to be tricked, not ever again."

Ford's smile disappeared. His eyes grew a glassy look to them and he spoke in a low tone. "I'm sorry Lee…I should have known how tough things would be for you. You used to love visiting the old ship…you know…the one that we named 'Stan-O-War.' You always beat me in checkers, but I could always beat you at chess. You had a wife named Carla…you haven't spoken with her in decades; that's my fault. I was naive and I allowed myself to be taken advantage of." Ford swallowed. "You probably spent the last few years blaming yourself for me dying. That's your problem, you always convince yourself that you must be the responsible one…probably because dad treated me like shit and mom always told you to watch out for me, because you're older by five minutes."

Stan released Ford's arms, and the shorter man gave a simple smile. "You first tried weed when you were sixteen and you spent the rest of the day scared of your own hand."

"Shut up, Sixer." Stan insisted as he hugged his brother for the first time in years.

Ford smirked. "You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily…did you?"

Stan pulled away and wiped his eyes. "What the hell is going on?"

Ford shrugged. "I have no idea…but I remember a man…he helped me out of my coffin and then he hit me on the back of the head. I woke up in a cell. Besides when these people-" He gestured all around him. "-raided that man's house and brought me here, I don't remember much. But I suspect that a resurrection incantation might be involved."

Stan's eyes glowed like fire. "The bastard kidnapped you?"

A smashing sound echoed up from beneath their feet, and Stan nearly lost his footing as the lights flickered and the floor shook. Stan turned to Lockhart, who was getting some futuristic gun ready. "What the hell is going on? What was that?!"

Lockhart scowled. "I don't know how to describe it; I've only seen the security footage. It's a monster…we're waiting for reinforcements to help take it down."

Ford stepped to Stan's side. "May I see the security footage?"

When Lockhart frowned, he spoke up for himself. "I hunted these things for years. I was briefly trapped in a nightmare dimension. I think that I can handle whatever it is…and point out its weaknesses."

Fiddleford nodded when Lockhart glanced at him for confirmation of this fact, and Stan wondered what association the two of them had.

"Alright, you two follow me then," Lockhart ordered.

 **[0]**

Brenda sat up when she heard a banging noise coming from the closet. Confused, she glanced towards the front of the house, where Mabel was refusing to allow someone come inside.

She stood on shaky legs, allowing the blanket Mabel had placed over to strike the floor. She gripped the kitchen doorway for support and watched as the closet door rattled. There was something inside, trying to get out. If it was a monster, Mabel would have said.

Which meant that Mabel couldn't have been Mabel.

She felt a chill run down her spine. She remembered how easily she had been tricked by The Shapeshifter.

Her hand shook as she closed it around the doorknob, and she opened the door a crack. Horrified, she flung open the door, and fell to her knees, tearing at the restraints which bound the begging Dipper.

As she removed the gag, she spoke in a harsh whisper. "What happened? Is it The Shapeshifter again?"

Dipper's desperate look disappeared, and he slid his hands around her neck. His grip was like iron, but it was not nearly as surprising as his cruel smile.

Brenda clawed at his fingers with her own bleeding ones, but he didn't show an ounce of pain on his face. If anything, he was relishing watching her struggle. As everything began to go black, however, she heard the front door close. Dipper removed one hand from her neck and grabbed the rope which she had just freed him from.

He tied the rope around her hands and gagged her. He giggled as he stood, and spoke as he eased the closet door closed. "Relax, I'll be back later…and then you and I can have some fun."

The door closed, and Brenda was plunged into darkness.

 **[0]**

Ford's eyes moved like a cat's as he re-wound the footage of the gigantic many-mouthed creature which had allowed a jail break.

Lockhart tapped his shoe, glancing at Fiddleford every few seconds. Fiddleford wasn't paying his impatience any heed, however. He was too busy watching Ford and enjoying the man's personal ticks.

When Ford started his fourteenth rewind of the footage of men getting trampled and devoured, Lockhart couldn't stand it any longer.

"That's it! You clearly don't know what you're talking about!" Lockhart insisted.

Ford didn't look up, and his brother came to his defense. "Relax, these things take time," Stan stated, more than a little forceful with the bastard who he considered responsible for his brother's brief imprisonment.

Lockhart reached for his gun. "Now, see here; I'm not going to spend one more seco-!"

Ford stood up. "You need toxicants. You need to find it and shoot it with tranquilizer darts. Elephant ones. You need to fill the vents in the lower levels of poison."

Lockhart's eyebrows twitched. "Are you crazy?"

The room rocked as the monster smashed into something new and Ford put a hand on the computer desk to keep himself steady. He spoke with one hand outstretched to make light gestures. "It has too much flesh for you to hurt it with bullets. You need to get it paralyzed, and I'll shoot it with a special device I made."

"What? What device?"

"I believe you have it in your archives." Replied Ford. "It's a large gun, with several pieces sticking out on metal rods. It has crystals growing inside of it."

Lockhart took a deep breath. He glanced between the Ford and Fiddleford, before admitting defeat. "Fine."

Stan shared a smile with Ford. His genius had not ceased to befuddle people.

 **[0]**

Bill leveraged a chair beneath the closet doorknob, before ducking into the stairway. Mabel was approaching, mentioning something about a weird man who had wanted to see Dipper.

He grinned and moved into Stan's office. There on the wall, was a rifle, behind a case of glass.

Bill raised Dipper's hand to smash the glass in one scarring motion but was interrupted by a sudden voice in the room.

"Hello, Dipper."

Bill turned, and found an obese man in a blue shirt, watching him with a troubled expression. Bill smiled.

"Blandon. What brings you here?" He asked as he licked his lips and slowly made his way to the rifle case. He already knew, due to his mind reading, but he wanted to hear the time traveler spit it out before getting shot in the stomach.

Blandon sighed. "I…I'm sorry Dipper…I just don't see any other way?"

The man was so wrapped up in his guilt that he didn't even notice the teen's bizarre behavior. "I'm sorry…but I have to do it."

"Have to do what?" Bill asked as he pressed his hands to the glass. _3…2…_

"I have to kill your great uncle. I'm sorry, but if he wasn't alive, then McGucket never would have moved his family to Gravity Falls."

Bill paused, suddenly intrigued. "What? I don't…understand…" he pretended.

Blandon took a deep breath and turned on the little device on his wrist watch. "I knew you wouldn't…I just had to warn you before I did anything…"

As he began to shimmer, Mabel entered the room and dove at him. Blandon was blindsided, falling backward, with Mabel atop him. They both vanished in the same instant, Mabel pulled into the hole by touching the initiator.

Bill smirked. This was going to be fun.

 **[0]**

Stan struggled at first, to get the gas mask on properly. He had refused to allow Ford to face the monstrosity alone, even with a gigantic gun which only he knew how to operate. Ford had smirked at his protectiveness but not refused the help.

Neither had Lockhart attempted to stop him. The man seemed happy that Stan was putting his own life in danger in fact. It was one less thing for him to worry about.

Stan followed procedure however, staying beside Ford always as a swarm of soldiers led them out of the elevator and onto the attacked floor. The gas released clouded the immense hallway, but Stan could still make out the holes in the wall which had been created, as well as the corpses which lay strewn on the floor. Most of them were prisoners. Many had been untouched by the otherworldly being, and Stan realized the morbid coldness of Ford's plan.

For those who had been left behind in the rush to evacuate and seal off the monster, the sudden flood of toxic air must have been relatively painless, but none the less hellish.

The sound of stomping echoed through the destroyed facility, sparks from the broken fixtures lighting up the torn open cells. The soldiers raised their guns, and Stan glanced at Ford. He wasn't nervous in the least.

Stan swallowed and turned back towards the broken door at the end of the hall way. It was steel, and thick as the side of a ship. It now looked like a piece of paper reduced to strips.

THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! It was getting closer.

Stan was reminded of who had called the thing as they passed a disturbing symbol drawn in blood. His eyes darted up as the creature pushed through the hole it had made in the door. It staggered towards them, the sound of its many lungs working in random order disturbing and maddening.

No order needed to be given. The tranquilizer darts were fired the moment that the mass of brown flesh and bleeding maws stumbled into this section of the prison. The monster roared and swung a tree branch sized arm at the nearest soldier. He ducked out of the way and tripped backward.

Ford removed the tripods of the gun and placed them, his hands steady as he aimed the weapon. Stan aimed his own gun and fired twice to draw the creature's dazed attention. It growled and limped forward. It opened all it's mouths at once, revealing hundreds of gnashing teeth, some of them sideways, and some of them bleeding.

Ford pulled the trigger.

A beam of energy shreds through the air and slammed into the monster. It shrieked, and yellow guts poured out of the side of the monster as it collapsed and liquified.

Ford stood up as if what they had just witnessed was nothing, and brushed the knees of his jeans off. He spoke on the telecom in his helmet. _"So…when do I get to see my niece and nephew?"_

 **[0]**

Tate checked his watch. Brenda still had not returned from "getting a beer." He took a deep breath and rolled his head around a couple times. _Three guesses where she's hiding_ , He thought as he moved down the hall of Norwood Lake Estate.

He grew still when the door to Candy's room eased open a couple inches. The amnesiac poked her head into the hall and glanced back and forth. Tate was shrouded in darkness; one of the policies of the Idionists was that as few lights as possible were to be hung inside the estate.

He smirked at her bravado. There weren't many teenage girls who would attempt such a daring escape, while as mentally broken as this one.

In only her nightgown, she shuffled out of the room and headed for the nearest hall. Tate followed at a steady pace. He had no intentions of losing his bait for Brenda, one of his finest worker bees.

It turned out, he didn't need to grab her, himself. She was cornered by a couple middle-aged, naked "worshippers."

He turned the corner and watched as he asked her what she had underneath the gown. She clearly didn't understand a word of their innuendo and covered her head as if about to be attacked.

One of them spotted him. The mayor's assistant, Tate guessed.

"Hey! McGucket! Do you want to help rock this one's world? She seems a little shy."

Tate tensed. In that moment, watching the messed up little girl crouching beneath the girth of two sex-crazed idiots, invited to help rape her, he realized how much he hated them all. Norwood most, but all of her lazy ass, misanthropic friends, who made five figures' a year and would most likely have funerals full of people in it for the inheritance.

He hated them, so very much.

The same voice which had told him to found the Idionists, and which had been with him ever since he attempted to drown himself in the lake on which he had gone fishing with his father, returned to him.

 **Makethemunderstandhrottlethemthrowtheminthelakefeedthemtothehoundsfillyourlungswiththeirbloodmakethemunderstand-**

McGucket hissed at a headache which came with the insightful voice. "No." He muttered.

The mayor's assistant frowned, and looked even more like an idiot.

Tate let out a long hiss and opened his eyes. "She's _mine_." He insisted, as he grabbed Candy by the arm and dragged her back to her room. Neither disagreed, neither had any intention of messing with him.

He was scrawny, but rich assholes were terrified of people like him. He held Candy's wrist as tightly as he could without breaking it and spoke in his harshest whisper. "Listen up, ducky, do not leave this room. _Don't._ Understand?"

Tears welled in her eyes and Tate's flash of anger turned inwards. Of course, she didn't understand. She didn't belong here. This had never been part of the plan, to kidnap innocents.

How had he fallen this low?

Tate shook himself and turned away from her. He locked the door to the room from the outside, unwilling to allow any perverts inside or for her to get herself any more damaged then she already was.

"Boss? What's the plan?" Asked Bruno, his right-hand man in all matters requiring physical intimidation.

"We're going to get our star pupil." He said in a gravelly voice as he marched towards the exit of the estate.

 **[0]**

Everything was rushing by. Everything was peeling apart and melting in front of her. She couldn't comprehend whatever it was, that was lurking overhead.

Mabel had never understood Dipper's existential dread, but she got a good idea of what it was like, watching the world spin back decades. It was more then she could handle, more than she wanted to handle.

She felt like she was going to start vomiting, but if she let herself, she might never stop. She also felt like there was a vice tightening on her brain. Together, these two feelings made her wish she was no longer alive. Not dead, but no longer exposed, no longer so vulnerable.

Mabel opened her eyes. She was lying on a beach, next to the man who had broken into her house. He was staring her with utter shock.

He shook, and the spell was broken. "No! No! NO!" He chanted, scaring her with how much his voice shook with a temper.

Mabel sat up. "What the…where are…" Words were difficult. They scraped against her throat, and they didn't make much sense in context to what she had just witnessed. Like in a dream, when your subconscious tells you it doesn't make sense to do something which would have a basis in life.

She looked him up and down, her eyes locking on the device around his wrist. It glowed like she imagined a piece of alien technology would. And it shimmered as if it wasn't completely inside reality.

She raised her eyes to his face, where his head was blocking the hot sun from view. "What did you do?"

The man grabbed her by the collar. "No! I am not letting you mess this up!" He knelt and grabbed her by the hands, pushing her face forward into the sand. Mabel tried to scream, but his hand had already circled her mouth. She mumbled into his callous palm as she kicked at his shins.

"Stop struggling! Stop it!" He yelled, his teeth bared. "IF YOU DON'T STOP THEN I WILL SEND YOU BACK BEFORE THERE WERE ANY PEOPLE!"

Mabel paused. His claim was insane, but he clearly believed it. And she knew better than to claim she knew what was and was not possible.

He removed some wire from the pocket of his pants and wrapped it around her hands. "I'm sorry…I'm really…really sorry…" He admitted, his breath shaky. "But I need to do this. I've tried everything else…the only way to save them…the only way to make things right is to kill that kid."

Mabel's eyes widened and she regained her voice. "What? What are you talking about?"

The man took a deep breath. "I won't touch your grandfather. But the only way to make things right is to make sure your great uncle never meets McGucket…and I've tried everything else."

He looked away and Mabel struggled to say something besides voicing her further confusion. "I'm sorry." He finally said, and turned away.

Mabel struggled against the wire as she watched him run down the beach. The metal bit into her wrists as she rolled about on the sand. She didn't know what the man had done, or if he had totally lost his mind. But she knew that the device on his hand was possibly her only way back to Dipper. Her only way to stop Bill.

"Are you alright?"

She rolled over at the young voice and found a boy with blonde, thick locks staring at her. He was dressed strangely and holding a kite.

Mabel gave her best smile. "No. I need to be untied…can you help me?"

The boy frowned. "Are you a criminal?"

Mabel shook her head.

"Are you from the city?" He asked with lit up eyes.

"Could you please get me out of this and then ask me?" Mabel suggested.

The boy grew ecstatic. He began talking about his favorite radio show as he did as commanded, thrilled to be able to come to the rescue for someone.

Mabel ignored the strangeness of his enthusiasm and spoke as she stood up. "Umm…where am I?"

"Glass Beach. It's like, the lamest town in the world."

Mabel felt a chill run down her spine, despite the warmth of the sun. "Uh…what year is it?"

"1958…are you high?" The boy asked, starting to doubt her sanity.

Mabel swallowed and turned away. _Alright._ Not such a big deal. She had dealt with weirder things…probably.

"And…do you know where the Pines' family lives?" Mabel asked, her thoughts racing.

"You mean where the freak with six fingers lives? On Pent Street." The boy responded.

Mabel glanced back at him and tried not to show her annoyance at his choice of phrase. She didn't have any more time to chat, however, if half of what the boy was saying was true, then she needed to follow the bald man.

She raced up the beach, moving from one block to the next, and attempting not to be disturbed by how different everything looked. The cars all looked like they belonged in a museum, and everyone was dressed in plain clothes.

Pent Street had about nine houses on it, and Mabel glanced between them, and ran up to the first one, knocking quickly on the door. A woman in an apron opened it and looked her up and down with eyes as narrow as almonds.

"What do you want?" She asked, with her hand on the doorway.

Mabel realized that she must have looked extremely immodest and colorful in her sweater and green-black skirt. "Can you tell me what house…on this block is the Pines' family house?"

The woman frowned. "You one of Phillip's girls?"

Mabel blushed and shook her head. "I'm a friend of the family." She claimed with an uneasy smile.

The woman pointed down the street, and Mabel smiled, before turning away and racing towards the house. Her feet ached, her stomach felt ready to turn inside out, and her head hurt. She desperately needed sleep, or at least, food.

But she dusted herself off on the front porch of the house and knocked rapidly on the door.

It was opened by a massive man in a golden suit. The man wore sunglasses and had a bushy mustache beneath his swollen nose. He gaged her and sniffed the air in disgust.

"Are you Mr. Pines?" She asked, wondering why the man was so inherently intimidating. There was something mean in just the way he looked at her.

"Yup." He answered in a gruff voice. "Are you selling something?" He asked, trying to contain a smile.

He was on the edge of laughing, his stoic expression had disintegrated, replaced by an amusement. He knew…something that she didn't and that made her feel twice as nauseous.

Mabel shook her head. "I'm from the school…I need to talk to Ford and Sta-Lee. Umm, I need to talk to them."

His smirked. "You're looking for the bald fella, aren't you?"

Mabel's heart skipped a beat. "What? How do you-"

He sniggered. "The boys are down by the old ship…I told the bald man they were at the ice cream parlor and sent the sheriff his way. He wanted to do them harm, no?"

She got the feeling that he already knew the answer to that question, but Mabel nodded anyway.

Stan's father checked his watch, before folding his arms and speaking with a raised eyebrow. "You better hurrying up if you want to get to them before the bald guy figures out I tricked him."

Mabel didn't know why Stan's father was so unsettling, or why he seemed to understand why she was here, better than she did herself. But she had no intentions of disagreeing.

 **[0]**

Leland had been in the middle of showing Ford how to use his slingshot, when he heard the out of breath woman yell at them. They were sitting atop the ridge of their turned over fort, and both glanced down at her in surprise.

Ford immediately shrunk behind Leland on seeing the disheveled woman calling for them to come down and follow her.

Leland stood up. "Who are you? This is our fort! It doesn't belong to anyone else!"

The woman shook her head. "There's a man coming for you two…please you have to go inside where it's safe!"

Leland glanced at Ford before he glanced back at the woman. She was a girl, he now realized. She just had that exhaustion which adults always seemed to have, tugging at their faces.

When he looked at the girl, he felt something indescribable curl inside. He didn't know why or how to describe it. But she looked trustworthy.

"C'mon Ford," He said, tugging on the cuff of Ford's shirt. "Let's go inside.

Ford gave a shaky nod, and Leland slid down the side of the "Stan-O-War", his boots striking the ground and dislodging quite a bit of sand. Ford stood up to follow, and the most horrifying moment of Stanford Leland Pines' life up until the point where his brother mutilated himself, occurred.

A bald man, drenched in sweat and wearing a strange blue shirt, materialized behind his brother in a flash of blue. He wrapped his muggy hands around Ford, causing the boy to start screaming and struggling. Leland watched, unable to move, as the man spoke with a mixture of pain and rage.

"Must. Be. Undone."

At his belt, was a gun. Leland had only ever seen one other gun, and it was the one his dad loved to polish in the living room while he watched news. This gun was larger, and it evoked twice the terror because it was held by someone who wanted to kill his twin.

The man screamed at Ford to quite struggling, and Ford obeyed.

The girl scooped him up, as if to shield him from harm and tried to meet eyes with the heaving, sweat soaked man. She spoke in a quiet, low tone. "Please…please don't do this. I know you don't want to…otherwise you would have gone further back."

Leland didn't know what the girl was talking about, but he spoke with tears brimming in his eyes. He couldn't help himself, he couldn't fight the water. "PLEASE STOP!" He yelled.

The man's labored breathing paused.

And a gun went off.

Blood spread across the man's arm, and he pivoted forward, collapsing on the sand. Ford lay there beside the man's howling body, too afraid to move.

The sheriff ran up to the man, handcuffed him, and forced the man to stand up. Ford ran over to Leland and wrapped his arms around him. Leland shook himself out of his stupor, and he made a promise to never freeze up again.

Not when Ford needed him.

Their father slinked up to them, and gripped their shoulders as he knelt and spoke. "You two need to swear to me that you will never tell anyone about this, alright?"

They nodded without hesitation. When their father told them to do something, they did it.

Leland never saw the girl again, but he didn't disagree when Ford later theorized she might not have been human. Their father ignored the existence of the girl, and so did the sheriff.

If she hadn't been an angel, Leland wasn't sure what she could have been.

 **[0]**

Pacifica packed her bags quickly. She didn't want to have the time to question whether this was a good idea, whether she was ruining her life.

Not to mention, she didn't want to mentally prepare herself for telling her mother she was leaving. She need to be rid of it, once and for all, sooner rather than later. Otherwise she might put it off. She might wiggle out of coming to Mabel's aid.

Then she might spend another night, in the house where her father had made her life a living hell. Inside the place where he had died.

This was it. There was no turning back.

Pacifica descended the twin staircase with a sick stomach, one which grew sicker as she listened to her mother address a room full of people who worshipped the demon which was tormenting Mabel.

"We must do whatever it takes, to ensure that his coming is one which cannot be disputed." Her mother claimed. She sounded so much like a dictator, addressing her army of willing monsters.

 _Whatever it takes._

This was the right thing to do, the thing which she wished she had enjoyed the strength to do before she had used Dipper and Mabel. Before all this ugliness.

"Now that the almighty is inside one of the twins, we must make sure that the byo is liberated as soon as possible!" She insisted, her hand banging against her podium.

Pacifica froze.

 _Oh, god no._

The sudden idea, of Mabel being possessed by Bill, was like frostbite. It made her go numb, and feel like her limbs were about to snap off. Just the idea of Mabel's uniqueness, all her optimism and strength, being replaced by a malicious smile, was paralyzing.

She would be worse than Pacifica's father. She would kill _everyone_.

Pacifica ran right then. She didn't bother to give her mother the big confrontational speech. She ran out the front door, she darted into the garage, leaped inside her car and streaked in the direction of The Shack, praying that her mother was mistaken.

That she wasn't too late.

 **[0]**

"Rooobbie! Yoo-hoo! Robbie wake up!"

Robbie opened his eyes and saw the person he least wanted to see in the world, standing in the doorway of his room.

It was a woman, in her late forties, with bleached blonde hair and pink eyeshadow. She wore massive hoop earrings and necklace formed of metal shingles which dropped down to her sizeable breasts. She had massive tan lines around her brown eyes, which looked red in a certain light.

 _Darlene._

"It's time to pay up." She stated with a gleam in her eyes.

Robbie felt the amber necklace around her neck stated to feel heavy around his neck.

 **[0]**

Bill finished arranging the pentagram of candles on the floor and took a step back to admire it. He turned, and flung open the closet door, smiling at Brenda. He grabbed her by the collar and dragged her into the center of the geometric shape.

He removed a knife from the kitchen cabinet, put down his gun and turned to her vulnerable body.

Mabel pushed him to the ground. She held his hands down, and tossed the knife into a corner of the room. Bill started chuckling.

"Did you have a fun time with Mr. Conciense-Stricken?"

Mabel ignored him. She tied him up with the wire that the man had used on her and then turned to Brenda. She released a deep breath and untied her slowly, hushing her as she whimpered and struggled. She led Brenda to the living room and spent the next few minutes patching her up and making sure that she was alright.

"Why are you doing this?" Mabel asked for what felt like the millionth time as she strolled into the kitchen, still nauseous from her return journey.

Bill raised his head and smirked. "I thought it might be fun."

Mabel had only ever hated one person before. And that person was Gideon.

But right now, she hated not just the smiling demon, but her own brother. She didn't understand how he could do something so stupid.

She removed the device which the man had used to move through time, and which she had used to return. It was sliver and had a little keypad for putting in the date and hour.

Maybe she could find out. Maybe she could stop this from ever happening. From her brother ever losing his eye.

Bill's smirk widened. "I knew that you'd try and fix things like you always do."

Mabel raised her face and her knuckles turned white against the device in her hand. "Shut the fuck up." She demanded.

He chuckled. "No…you go right ahead…mess with time…this should be fun to watch."

Mabel turned away. She marched into the living room and sat down in front of Brenda. "I need you to watch him. He is being possessed…by Bill. I'm going to be back, very, very soon, but right now, I need you to make sure he absolutely cannot escape. Alright?"

Brenda nodded. She watched then, as Mabel moved back into the kitchen and with a hiss and cerulean flash, disappeared.

The front door opened and someone charged through the front.

Brenda leaped to her feet grabbing the nearest weapon she could see, a chair. Not her finest moment, but she had used more useless objects to defeat her opponents before.

She lowered the chair when Pacifica appeared around the corner and came to a halt. "What do you want?" Brenda asked without lowering the chair any further, unwilling to trust the daughter of the person who worked with Tate.

As far as she was concerned, she had more reasons to fall back on for her suspicion. First, the blonde had basically tortured Candy. Second, she had lied to Mabel and manipulated her. And third, Brenda just didn't like her.

She was too smart for her own good.

Pacifica took a deep breath. "Mabel called me, I…I heard that Bill might have…" She took a deep breath. "That Mabel made a deal with Bill."

She looked desperate for reassurance to the contrary, and Brenda lowered her chair, realizing that she didn't have much moral high ground to stand on.

"Follow me." She instructed, before turning and moving into the kitchen. Pacifica gasped when she saw Dipper.

"Bill possessed him. Mabel had to go do something." Brenda stated, not quite understanding the situation herself. "She'll be back soon…I'm sure."

"What happened to his eye?" Pacifica finally asked, after looking him up and down.

Bill raised Dipper's head and gave them both the creepiest leer which they would ever see. He spoke in a low voice. "I stuck a needle in it. I'd be happy to show you…just loosen these bindings."

Pacifica recoiled, and Bill started laughing. "

Brenda glanced between them both before taking the initiative. She grabbed the gag which he had used on her, and tried to stuff it into his mouth. He wouldn't allow that, preferring to attempt to bite her. Brenda growled struck him hard in the stomach, forcing his mouth open. She stuffed the gag in and watched as he scowled at her.

"Was that necessary?" Pacifica asked, still standing in the doorway.

"Do you want to listen to him all night?" Brenda responded with a glare.

Pacifica held her tongue and turned away. She forced herself to move past Dipper and lean against the kitchen counter. She waited patiently for Mabel to return with her hands crossed at her waist. She looked anywhere but at Dipper, her face white with what was either disgust or shame.

Brenda sat down in the chair in front of Dipper, watching Bill's every smug move.

Pacifica coughed. "Umm…where's Stan?"

Brenda shrugged.

"Then…where did Mabel go?"

Brenda stood up. "Please stop talking. I'm sure she'll be back soon."

Wrinkles appeared on the blonde's cheeks and her hands clenched at her sides. Brenda was sure she was going to say something insulting. But the blonde took a couple deep breaths and looked away. Bill glanced between the two of them and seemed to smile.

A sharp knocking came at the kitchen door, and Pacifica and Brenda shared a panicked look.

"One moment!" Pacifica called, while Brenda dragged Dipper's chair back into the closet.

Pacifica cast a glance back towards Brenda, and when she received a thumbs up, she opened the kitchen door. A muscular hand planted itself against the door and pushed it further open. A muscular Polynesian man, with a tattoo of a dragon on his left cheek, stepped inside. He was holding a wooden baseball bat and had wrappings around his palms. He was bald and wore a black wife beater and camo pants to match his boots.

He was followed by a chubbier and shorter man, holding a shotgun, and wearing a coat with several missing buttons. He was older and wore sunglasses. He, like his friend, moved out of the doorway, to allow his boss to move inside.

Tate McGucket marched in with the biggest smartass smile which Brenda had ever seen him wear. He was dressed in a hunting jacket, and his eyes were hidden behind his thick oak bark hair. In his right hand, was a revolver.

"Hi, girls…what were you two lovebirds gossiping about?" Tate asked as he glanced between them with a snicker.

Brenda, felt her stomach plunge.

 **[0]**

"Robbie…we've been over this too many times for my taste." Darlene stated in her obnoxious Bronx accent as she played with the snow ball on the bedside table. Her eyes fixed on his and Robbie felt the amber necklace around his neck start to burn. "So, I'm going to say this one last time…"

Her hokey smile disappeared and was replaced by a look that made everything hurt even more. She stepped up to his bed and crushed the snow globe with her bare hand without flinching. The shards didn't pierce her skin.

"Where's. My. Tribute?"

Robbie swallowed. "I…I just need more time."

Darlene's smile returned. "Really? Because…I've given you more time, I believe I'm more than overdo my prize."

"Please…I just-"

Darlene put a finger to his lips. "Nope. I don't want to hear any more excuses…you know…I've heard excuses my whole life from men like you. Men who think that they can take advantage of me because I look like a ditz. Now…" Her voice changed. It became scratchy and buzzing. _"…where's the tribute you promised me?"_

She put a hand against his throat, and Robbie's skin crawled at her touch. All the hairs on her hand were twice as stiff and long as usual, and they stabbed into his pours.

It was around this point, that Darlene started to resemble a mannequin. Her face grew seams, and her skin felt plastic. Her eyes started to shine like they were marbles, reminding Robbie of the Cathy's old dolls, the ones which used to creep him out.

The door opened. "Robbie, I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner, I-"

Robbie's eyes widened at Tambry's voice. Darlene smirked and turned towards Tambry. She revealed her teeth as she moved towards Robbie's girlfriend.

"You must be the love bird whose been distracting this little prick from making me my tribute. Heh, well…I guess since he doesn't have anyone else who gives a shit about him… _you'll do well enough as motivation."_

Darlene moved like a snake. She grabbed Tambry by the neck and held her two feet off the ground, gagging and wriggling against the wall. Her headed turned a full 180 to meet Robbie's gaze as he desperately tried to get out of bed.

"Please! I'll make it! I swear I will! Just please leave her alone!" Robbie begged.

Darlene looked unimpressed and sighed when the pain became too much for Robbie, and he fell to the floor. She spoke as she tugged Tambry (still gagging) along with her, towards the window. "You know Robert, most guys…I can just beat the answer I'm looking for out of them. But you're special. You've experienced more physical trauma then most people…so," She cast a smirk back at him as she tore the window open and dangled Tambry out the window. "You have until 2 PM to get me my tribute."

With that claim, she leaped out of the window. Robbie scrambled to the windowsill, and watched with bug eyes as she strolled along the darkened street, dragging Tambry behind her like a sack of flour and whistling "Itsy Bitsy Spider."

 **[0]**

Tate was in the middle of inspecting Stan's silverware, when Pacifica felt the need to speak up. "Could you please leave? Stan's going to be home any second."

Tate raised his face and gave her a toothy grin. She could tell that he was small potatoes compared to the old man who had threatened to kill her if she broke Mabel's heart. Tate knew that too, he must have.

Stan had beaten up her father inside the family mansion. He had escaped government custody, and as far as everyone was concerned, he was responsible for Gideon never being seen or heard from again.

Tate wasn't fazed however. "Is he now? Well, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to turn my prize worker-bee over to me." He grinned. "I hear that he's not a big fan of harboring kidnappers under his roof."

His gaze stuck on Brenda, who had fallen deathly quiet and grown as pale as a ghost. Pacifica glanced at Brenda, remembering the brunette's crime. She closed her eyes and stepped between Tate and Brenda.

"You can't take her anywhere against her will." She stated, trying not to be disgusted by how close he was. Realizing how weak her word was against the well-armed individuals, she added: "I'll call the police."

He smelled like the lake and she couldn't tell the last time that he had showered.

Tate's face scrunched up, as if he was trying to solve some incredibly complex problem. Then he smiled wide enough to disturb Pacifica.

"You're going to call the police? Well…I'm sure they'll put us in our place…" He moved past her, but instead of heading for Brenda, he leaned against the wall, next to the closet. Brenda shot Pacifica a look, and Tate's face wrinkled in further satisfaction. "…I'm sure they won't touch your friend, _Mabel_ …or her family…" He stated as he put his hand on the closet door knob.

He eased the door open, and glanced inside, at the pleading Dipper. He paused for a moment on seeing Dipper like that, and Pacifica thought she saw something in his lack of words.

Pity? Fear?

No, it was _recognition._ He was recognizing Dipper. As if he'd never actually seen him before, and now that he was seeing him…it was stirring up something forgotten. Something that filled him with loathing for his current position. That threw him for a loop, and sent him in a scramble to reestablish his dominance over the situation.

Tate forced away any guilt as he closed the door. turned to face her. "I'm sure the police will take the word of a _runaway_ …" He locked eyes with her. "…and an obsessed kidnapper." He swerved to face Brenda, and she shivered.

When neither of them said anything, he made a noise which indicated that he had won. "Grab our reigning champion boys…she's going to make history tonight." Tate insisted.

Brenda didn't struggle. She got to her feet and allowed Tate's goons to stand to either side of her, and walk her outside, to their truck.

"Why do you even want her? Surely, you have other people who can sell drugs for you!" Pacifica called as Tate reached the doorway.

Tate stopped and moved back to her with a wickedness in his step. "You think she sells drugs for me? Oh, wow…Mommy really must love you to have never taken you to her little house on the lake."

Pacifica blushed at his mocking laughter and only looked up when Tate grabbed her wrist. "It's a shame Mommy isn't here to bail you out this time."

He dragged her out the back door, his gun placed against her stomach.

"You want to grow up to be a rich bitch? I'll allow it…but _first_ -" He stomped up the ramp extending out the back of the truck and threw Pacifica inside, next to the quivering Brenda and tall, tattooed man. "-you're going to learn about the family business…up close and personal." He spat, his eyes burning.

The ramp slid up with a clank, and Tate smashed the back of the truck closed.

 **[0]**

Dipper listened from inside the closet, as a mob of people dressed in red hoods chanted outside The Shack, armed with torches and rifles. Bill was showing him their hatred, their determination, and their fear.

It was overpowering.

Bill was also showing him that, at the front of the horde, was an eighty-year-old man, with one eye missing. A man named Ivan, who was intent on getting rid of Bill, whether that meant curing Dipper, or killing him.

 _Don't worry PineTree_ , Bill assured as the cultists began to kick down the front door. _I won't let them hurt you…too badly._

 **[0]**

 **Message: _Sevlesruoy eraperp. Revo tsomla si yrots ruo._**

 **Comments:**

 **RestlessCollector** :

 _The only gripe I had with the show was The Deal and that it was a weapon, not a gamble. The Deal Should be a Double-Edged Sword, Bill having to in some way shape or form, through word traps and hidden clauses, fulfill his end of the if he doesn't? who knows? Such Punishments are not within our tongue._

 ** _Don't worry. The deals are always completely fulfilled in my story. Bill is already exposing Dipper to information and he will continue to do so in more and more forceful ways._**

 **Coldblue** :

 _2) Who are Txfyu'nt, Ne'zzevs, and Pvtx'qn that Bill Cipher sensed? Will they appear briefly, be allies of Bill Cipher or do they go by other names?_

 ** _They are other demons. I can assure you that at least one of them will appear before the finale._**

 _Agent Lockhart:_

 _It rather interesting to read what can he do. Not much. Like Robbie Valentine, even if Lockhart resources. He is not in control of anything and does not know what he dealing with. Bipper or Bill Cipher mention there are no Gods or Demons, at least not around Gravity Falls. Gods and Demons do exist it seems, but Dimensional Beings are God/Demonic-like beings as well so it means nothing._

 ** _Lockhart is out of his element._**


	27. S2, E9: Ceteris paribus

**Episode 9: Ceteris paribus**

 _"_ _Oh, there is a light and it never goes out_

 _There is a light and it never goes out" -_ The Smiths _, "There Is A Light"_

* * *

 _(April 15th, 9:00 PM, 1984)_

 _Fiddleford descended the basement stairs with the device clamped around his wrist. It shined the light of the kitchen which bathed his scarecrow frame and wet coat, making him resemble something of a bogeyman despite his short stature. He let out shaky breaths, having suffered bronchitis since his late wife's death._

 _Ford's basement was lit only by the occasionally flash of blue sparks, originating from where Ford was welding one of the final pieces in place._

 _He had been repairing the machine over the past two weeks, angry at Fiddleford, ever since he used it without permission and caused the machine to nearly implode. He still had scars on his lower back from the fissure of energy which his attempts had caused._

 _Fiddleford reached the bottom step and ceased his journey. He spoke with phlegm thick in the back of his throat. "Ford? …We need to talk about the Duration Traveler."_

 **[0]**

 _(3:45 PM, October 7th, 2016)_

Mabel raced through the forest, leaping over the logs which blocked her path and forcing nearby birds to flutter off and small mammals to scurry away from her shoes. She turned up rotting leaves, her bare legs smudged with the mud which coated them. She dove between the bushes which concealed her view of the clearing where "it" always took place. Her hands shoved the branches away from her as she waded through them.

"Dipper! DON'T!" She screamed as her sneakers kicked up the dust as she ground to a halt in front of him.

Dipper turned her way at the sound of his name. But as he did, she could see the yellow energy crawling up his arm, showing her his bones. He had already made the deal.

She was too late.

His eyes rolled into the back of his skull and he fell to his knees, his mouth beginning to move as if he was screaming. No sound came, though. Bill wouldn't allow him to do that.

Mabel's fists clenched in frustration, and she fumed as she glared at him. Bill smirked as he stood up and cracked his back.

"What's the matter ShootingStar?" He asked as he took a shaky step toward her.

Mabel wondered how she could have ever been stupid enough to confuse this wobbling monstrosity with her brother. Nothing about the way he walked looked natural and the yellow in his pupils was excruciatingly obvious now that she knew to look for it.

"You look like someone ready to give up. Don't you care about your brother?"

It was the exact same words he had said last time. And the time before that. Always the same words. Bill must have thought he was important, a god compared to her and humans in general.

But he was as predictable as Mabel's inevitable lateness.

She pressed the button on the time machine around her wrist and was returned to that day's sunset.

There was a flash of blue and she endured the sickening speed which had accompanied every cycle thus far. By now, she no longer felt like throwing up or clawing her own brain out of her skull. Instead, the feeling was accompanied by a deep numb which had infected every limb of her body.

Sunlight poured into the forest from the same angles that it always did, rendered ugly by mundanity. It was directed by the same branches, swaying in the same wind. The same birds sang the same calls, as always. And the same water trickled past her hiding place.

Mabel was reminded of the old saying "you never put your foot in the same river twice." While she had not placed her foot yet in the river which ran past this clearing, just as she had not removed her shoes or socks in what felt like hours, if she had touched the river, she was sure it would be the same one as always.

It was enough, that she was surprised she had kept her wits about her this long. However long it had been; Mabel had lost all sense of time with no real days and nights to be spent.

Mabel marched back to the same spot which she had after her last few failures. There was only so many times she could try in a row before she became emotionally drained. She had made herself a little area in a cave just across the street from The Shack after her fifth attempt to prevent Dipper from making the deal with Bill.

The first time she hadn't been dissuaded. She hadn't even considered quitting her attempts. A man had stopped her to ask directions while she was in the middle of running to stop Dipper. So, what? She had tried again and avoided the spot where the man was.

On the second occasion, she has been attacked by a rabid dog (she had come out unscathed luckily). Her third attempt had resulted in her running too fast, slipping, and cutting her leg.

Now, her shin was dressed with a bandage.

After that, she had forced herself to sleep, as she had not gotten any since Bill stabbed Dipper's eye.

It had been difficult. Her head ached and her body ran a different schedule ever since she started using the time machine. However, even though she felt detached from the rest of the world and the progression of hours, Mabel still grew tired, experiencing the exact same hours many times over.

She couldn't remember at what she had stopped crying, how many rewinds in she had reached a hardened point. She would not cry again; she would not be the emotional pincushion that everyone seemed to think she was. She was going to save Dipper if it killed her.

But that was the depressing bit. It wasn't that no matter how many times she tried or how hard she tried, it always ended up the same. It wasn't that she had to watch her brother make the worst decision of his life repeated in front of her eyes, of her own volition (which made it worse than if she had been forced, because every time it came down to it, she was tempted to abandon him).

The depressing bit was that she was more frustrated and bored by now, then regretful and resolute. By now, she just wanted this…all this stupidity…to be over. And no matter how much she hated herself for that thought, she couldn't get rid of it.

She hadn't dreamed of getting the time machine. She hadn't eaten in what had to be at least three re-winds.

The temptation to just return to her time, to give up, for now, was so strong that it made her bite her lip until she bled.

She had walked up to Dipper. She had told him not to take the deal, outright. Every time, he had become creeped out by the fact that she had could read his thoughts. One time he had discovered the machine clamped around her wrist, and taken her for an android. That time, he had panicked, running from her, escaping, and making the deal sooner than usual.

It had become difficult for her to not look at him with contempt, seeing him at his worst over and over. She had wanted to talk to herself, to tell herself that there was a problem and that she needed to talk to Dipper.

But every time she even got close to herself, she'd stop. The idea of seeing, her earlier self, was terrifying. There was something instinctual, telling her that it was a bad idea. Not just that her other self would likely freak out worse than Dipper, but that there was something fundamentally _unnatural_ about such an action.

She removed her hands from her face and watched the blue display on the machine flicker as it adjusted the read-out of the temperature and the atmospheric pressure. She couldn't do this alone. That was clear.

She needed help.

 **[0]**

 _(11:13 PM, May 5th, 1946)_

 _"WAAA!"_

 _The baby proved his vocal cords to be powerful ones._

 _The sound of the baby crying, caused its mother to weep all the harder. She didn't look at his red face as the doctor helped clean her off. Her son was large as well as loud, weighing ten pounds. And he had gray eyes, identical to his father's._

 _The nurse who soothed him, by the name of Ethel, tried to offer him to his mother. It was her last hour of her shift, and she was too exhausted to realize how miserable the woman was. She shook her head, and Ethel realized that the baby in her arms wouldn't have a home._

 _Not near its birth mother._

 _With a heavy heart, she carried him out into the hall and headed for the nursery. She lowered her eyes to him and felt something in her begin to melt. She had always wanted a son, and he was so handsome._

 _She was so enraptured by him, that she nearly knocked into the man and woman who were standing out in the hall, gawking. She excused herself and doubled her pace._

 _She would never be allowed to adopt. Besides, she couldn't afford to take care of a baby. She didn't have the money and or the time to do so._

 _So, she pressed a brief kiss on his forehead and lay him down. Once she had tucked him in, she glanced up at the clock on the wall, hanging above all the newborns of the Gravity Falls Emergency Clinic. Her shift was two minutes over._

 _She took a deep breath and turned away from the crying newborn and his bright gray eyes._

 **[0]**

 _(12:15, October 7th, 2016)_

Robbie opened the door and found Mabel standing in front of him, with a surprising look in her eyes.

"Mabel? What's wrong?"

She burst inside, closing the door behind her and locking it. She did so with practiced ease, her eyes jumping to the open window in his living room as she turned away from the door lock. She navigated the living room's messy stack of papers and slammed the window closed.

The flush of darkness into the living area accompanied the sound of the window closing, and Robbie turned on a lamp as he watched her mechanically sit down on the sofa.

He spoke as he meandered towards her, paranoid that she wasn't what she appeared to be due to Wendy's death at the hands of The Shapeshifter. "Mabel…what's going on? Are…are we being attacked?"

"Dipper is in trouble. He's about to make the biggest mistake of his life. I need you to help me stop it." She replied in a monotone which scared him more than anything.

There was no compassion, no worry, behind her words. Just annoyance at him asking. Or…at him for _not_ knowing?

That was so unlike her. Everything about the way that she stared at the green wallpaper of the living room, the way that she wasn't blinking quite _right_ …it made him feel nauseous. As if he and she were not running on the same tracks, as if she was separated from him in some way which meant she had a leg up on him.

That wasn't Mabel. Mabel would never be annoyed over the subject of helping her brother. He couldn't imagine feeling this way, being disturbed by the same girl who had sat with him at the hospital and played Checkers with. The same girl who reminded him of Cathy in so many ways that sometimes it hurt.

Robbie glanced towards the kitchen table. He had his gun there.

"Mabel…what are you talking about?" He asked as he inched towards the table, unwilling to be caught off guard in case this was a trick.

"He's going to make a deal with Bill. We need to stop him."

Robbie stopped. _Red Book. Boy, who will bring about the end of the world..._

"Wait…what?" Questions buzzed in his mind like hornets, and he settled on the most obvious one as he lurched back toward her. "He…why would he do that?"

Mabel shrugged. And the veil was lifted. No more annoyance, no more impassiveness. She now looked crippled.

"What did I say? Do…do you know? Mabel, did he tell you he was going to do this?" Robbie asked, beginning to wonder how he could have become so disengaged from their lives after all they'd been through.

Mabel shook her head. "I don't know why he's doing this…I think he feels guilty about something…he…he won't tell me no matter how many times I ask." She began to scratch at her right-hand wrist, and instinctively yank her sweater sleeve up to protect it from sight.

She stood up and met his eyes, the resolve in her voice returning. "But I know that he's going to do it at 3:00 PM tonight. I know it, Robbie. And we have to stop him."

Robbie blinked a couple times and took a step back. "Mabel…how do you know the date of when this is occurring?"

"It doesn't matter!" Mabel yelled, bounding towards him and causing him to back up against the table of his dining room. "Why does everyone care about the details? We're running out of time, we need to talk to him and make sure that he doesn't make that deal!"

Robbie held up his hands for defense as he spoke. "Please calm down…I just wanted to know so I could figure out if it's true."

Mabel's scowl split into a cruel smile. "Oh yeah Robbie…I've just lost my mind. He's totally not going to stab his own eye out! That would be ridiculous!" Her hand began to glow yellow. "Why would you trust me? I've only ever told you the truth before!"

Robbie cowed. "Mabel, I-"

"NO! I should have _evidence_ …everyone needs fucking evidence to see what's obvious! He's a depressed, lonely, self-loathing teen, what other motivation do you need? It should be this simple-"

She raised her right hand and began moving it as if it were a sock puppet. "'I need help guys!'" She said in a high-pitched voice which seemed to mock her own enthusiasm and naivety.

"'Don't worry Mabel, we're behind you one-hundred percent!'" She said in a much deeper voice, one which would have belonged on a toddler's show, if didn't have the shaky edge beneath it which made him fear for her sanity.

"Mabel! Please…do not do that." He insisted, feeling himself lose control of the situation.

She was about to say something when her eyes met his. Her face went pale and she shrunk away from him. "I'm sorry." She apologized. "I'm just so worried…I…don't know how to prove it. Isn't there some kind of test that you can do…to see if Bill is about to possess him. I…I can't…I need your help."

Robbie glanced away, before nodding. "Alright…there are methods of determining that…I'll try…just _please_ , sit down and relax. I'll make you some tea and you can help me with the ritual."

She clearly wanted to disagree. But she nodded and returned to the sofa, staring at the carpet as Robbie moved to the kitchen and filled his kettle. He watched her fidget, still on edge, but certain now that he was talking to the real deal.

He glanced at the oven clock. They had a little over three hours. Plenty of time to commit the ritual.

 **[0]**

 _(3:15 PM, August 7th, 1983)_

 _"I'm sorry…there's nothing I can do," The man's boss stated. He stood, patted the man on the back, and promised that his check was in the mail._

 _The room was tiny, it made him feel entrapped. The chair too small. His boss was too…okay with everything which had just transpired. A metal fan stood on the windowsill of the office and lazily turned, turning the stuffy office into a slightly less stuffy one._

 _The man just stared at the linoleum floor, listening to the second hand on the clock above his bosses' desk. When he knew, that his boss was about to clear his throat and come up with an excuse to make him exit the room (and presumably, the premises considering that his shift had just ended), the man stood up. He nodded a little, mumbling some meaningless thanks for the chance before stumbling out the door._

 _There was nothing left to say. He didn't feel like screaming, he just wanted his job back. He headed for his car, already thirsty._

 **[0]**

 _(3:43 PM, October 7th, 2016)_

Robbie raced through the woods, his shoes smacking against the mud. It had begun to rain as they jogged to The Shack, which had not helped the terrible drivers who had nearly run him and Mabel over (and caused him to plummet off the curb and sprain his ankle).

Right now, his leg was inflamed with pain and he felt like heaving. Sleep sounded like a good idea to him right now.

But that didn't matter. Mabel had described the scene which would take place in such detail, that Robbie was currently able to visualize it. She had claimed that a rival demon had revealed these details, along with Bill's plan. The claim felt questionable even though it made sense considering his studies so far. The only things that demons hated more than humans were one another.

The ceremony had lent legitimacy to Mabel's claim, however. Per the signs, Bill was closer to their reality than ever before, a state which made him more vulnerable. The only reason that Robbie knew of, for him to do so, was so that he could possess a human being. While he suspected that Mabel had indeed received her information from a source other than the one she'd claimed, he believed that she was telling the truth. Albeit, the truth with dozens of pained details.

Up ahead, was the river that she had stated Dipper would be standing next to. And sure, enough, there stood Dipper, eyes half open, murmuring to himself. Mabel was coming from the opposite direction as him, diving down the sandy trail which led from The Shack to the river. They had split as soon as they had made it out of town, with Mabel insisting that they needed to cover all exits.

Robbie moved into top gear and leaped the river. He landed right next to Dipper and touched his shoulder.

A yellow light moved through his skin, and as Dipper opened his eyes, Robbie could see that same yellow twinkle in the back of his pupils. Inside his skull, smiling back.

Dipper (or more accurately, Bill) grabbed Robbie's necklace and snapped it off. Robbie fell backward with the sharp push to his chest, and Bill giggled as Robbie floundered in the river, his arm quickly withering and causing him immense pain.

Mabel just watched, unmoving, not crying or calling for help. Just…disappointed.

Bill turned to face her as Robbie grabbed the shore and pulled himself onto the bank as his magically recreated arm turned skeletal and limp.

"What's the matter ShootingStar? You look like someone ready to give up. Don't you-?"

Bill never got to finish his witty comment. Mabel removed the sleeve of her right arm and revealed a glowing, silver machine, which looked like a gigantic watch. She pressed a button on the readout, and Robbie-who-lost-his-necklace-and-fell-in-the-river ceased to ever have existed, along with the rest of the universe for the last three hours.

Pacifica, Stan, McGucket, Brenda…they had all failed. They had all tried to assist, under her pressure, and they had all proven unable to move fast enough. _No one was ever fast_ enough.

Now Robbie too. That wasn't too surprising, the mortician's son seemed to fail in all areas.

 _At least he isn't as incompetent as you_ , Mabel chided as she appeared in the same spot, greeted by the same sunrise.

 **[0]**

 _(3:34 PM, August 19, 1957)_

 _"One day, I'm going to build a rocket ship." The boy boasted as he lay on the bed across from his best friend in the world. He was inspecting the model airplane which he had received last Christmas. After a moment, he placed it down on his bedside table, right next to his busted alarm clock._

 _"Yeah, but then you'll only be able to go to other planets…you know…barren and rocky…all cold. Why would you want that?" The boy's friend asked as he refused to look up from his comic._

 _The boy didn't mind. His friend had been the only one not to bully him about his weight in sixth grade, or to make fun of his name or voice. His friend was interested in engineering, like him, and liked his collection of Superman comics._

 _As well, his friend had something enchanting about him, which the boy found difficult to put into words. Being the age that he was, he didn't feel the need, though, to put it into words and was content to bask in the sweet throbbing._

 _"If you do anything, you should build a time machine!" The boy's friend commanded, smiling now, and not paying attention to Superman's latest escapade._

 _The boy frowned. "Why would I want to do that?"_

 _His friend rolled his eyes. "Because, dumbass, if you have a time machine, you can go_ way _in the future and you'll get to hang out when everyone has a rocket ship and there's no more war or hunger or anything bad."_

 _The boy smiled. "Okay…but only if you come with me."_

 _"Deal." His friend said, looking up from his comic with a dimpled smile._

 _The boy's foster mother came to the door and told the boy that he needed to focus on homework. The boy complained but she was having none of it. His friend shrugged._

 _"Don't worry. Four more weeks and we'll have the whole summer to ourselves." He assured, before asking if he could borrow the boy's comic book._

 _The boy nodded and watched him leave, feeling something strange in his chest, which he had never felt before._ Four more weeks.

 _It didn't sound so long when his friend said it._

 **[0]**

 _(5:28 PM, September 27th, 2016)_

When the police arrived on the scene of the wreckage, the person who had called them, reported that the car had just suddenly jerked off the road, rolled down thirty yards of the hill and crashed into a redwood.

It took the police eight minutes to mobilize and reach the sight of the wreckage. In that time, the person who called them somehow failed to see the girl in the dirty sweater running down the hill after the wreckage.

That was good because Mabel didn't need any questions asked about her involvement in the accident or her motivation for following Dipper into the woods.

It had occurred to her as she collapsed in her resting spot, just seconds ago, that maybe she couldn't stop Dipper making the deal by showing up. Maybe Bill had put a spell in place that meant, no matter who she allied herself with, Dipper would end up taking the deal.

So, she had to make sure that Bill never even got a chance to turn Dipper onto his side. And the only thing she could think of which would prevent the deal from being established, was the death of Wendy, the person who Dipper had relied on most.

She dove between the mighty trees which towered over her, watching Dipper race towards the clearing where The Shapeshifter had axed Wendy. She realized that she was too late as she watched him dive out into the open and tensed in expectation of the sickening thud which should accompany an evisceration like the one Wendy had experienced.

When no thud came, she sprinted after Dipper, trying to discern what had occurred in these crucial seconds. She entered the clearing and screamed as she watched Dipper slam the ax in one of the two Wendy's who was wrestling on the ground.

She bled red and collapsed. Dipper turned. The Shapeshifter reached out and snapped his neck. Mabel stumbled backward and tripped on a rock. The Shapeshifter grinned, still posing as Wendy as it moved towards her with its sharp teeth revealed.

Mabel wasn't staring at it, though. She was staring at herself. She was staring at her own unconscious body across the clearing from her.

 _Nyghagunssizaphjanyghasphalguunhaentghyujkiafnnb-_

Mabel felt the ground begin to crack beneath her fingertips, and vibrations ran up her arms and made her ribs ache. Her skin felt like it was boiling, and the air in her lungs turned heavy and hot. The grass turned yellow and burned against her skin like it was toxic. A sound, that made her think of a mountain-sized cannon firing, broke through the air and rattled against her eardrums.

Her eyes itched as if there were needles poking them from inside her skull. She moaned at the various, intolerable sensations, and her own voice came out agonizingly slow. If she had could think, she would have realized that her own moan was so drawn out, that her moan continued, the laws of physics no longer applying to the sound. Instead of fading, her cry of pain continued.

She got to her knees, despite the overwhelming pain. She raised her head towards the cracking sound which deafened her ears. And when she finally faced the rest of the world, she wished she had not.

The sky burned violet. The snow tops of the mountains which surrounded her, now glowed neon red, and the trees around her were charred black, constantly burning with blue fire. Birdcall turned into distorted shrieks that reverberated, and the flow of nearby water ground to a halt.

Most disturbing was that she could see the sky, literally falling. Massive tendrils were breaking through the violet clouds and shredding the fabric of reality. Beyond the tear, was something immense and hungry.

It was sliding in, contorting its body to fit the small rift created by her seeing herself. All colors were inverted as it drew closer to its objective; all passage of time was grinding to a halt. She turned her head to look away, and the action felt like it took a million years.

She wouldn't let it in any further.

Mabel plunged her finger towards the button which would free her from the nightmare, watching her own finger descend as everything moved slower and slower. Her own thoughts started to bleed into oblivion as her finger started to travel too slow for her to see it moving.

 _Beep._ She was pulled away, undoing the rift, and re-trapping whatever being had been on the verge of consuming all that she knew.

She collapsed, next to the same river as always. The sunlight greeted her from the same angles as always, and Mabel lay on the ground for several hours. Just feeling the soil beneath her, just having a moment of silence, a moment of contemplation. It was heaven compared to the torture which the being attempting to break in had induced.

Mabel lay there a few moments and realized that it was perhaps impossible for her to keep her brother from accidentally killing Wendy, without seeing herself. Without triggering that hell.

Then it came to her, why her brother was doing this, why he had made the deal. Where the guilt was coming from. She hadn't known…how could she not have known that he blamed himself as much as he did for a reason? How could she have given up on him, when he had needed her more than ever.

Mabel pressed her face to the ground and listened to the same birdsong as always. Why was she so dumb?

She needed to relax. She needed to take a break.

 **[0]**

 _(5:24 PM, August 7th, 1983)_

 _The man sat at the far end of the bar, enjoying his second beer. A TV above him played an obnoxious wrestling match and the other three at the bar watched with wide eyes._

 _The building was shoddy, its cheapness attracting him due to his limited funds and how he had lost his job just two hours ago. The stool he had chosen was encased in rust, its seat dusty until he collapsed atop it. There was hardly enough room for his legs beneath the bar and the neon of the signs which crowded the store window continued to blink in his mind even when he closed his eyes._

 _"You driving home?" The bartender asked when he called for a third bottle. The bartender had short black hair and glanced at his watch before continuing. "It'll be dark soon." He noted with concern in his eyes._

 _Concern that reminded the man of his old friend. Anger burned in him._

 _"I can handle it. Just give me another drink." The man insisted as he removed his wallet from his back pocket and slapped it against the bar._

 _"But-"_

 _"I said, I CAN HANDLE IT!_ _Now give me another!" The man insisted, refusing to break his stare with the bartender._

 _The three other guys took a break from their joking to glance his way. They were all truckers, lumberjacks, and haulers. He felt pathetic under their scowls._

 _"Fine. It's your funeral." The bartender stated before removing the third bottle from the freezer and handing it to him._

 _The man grabbed it, and glared into the bottle, briefly considering how irrational he was acting. Then he tilted the bottle back and consumed half of it in a couple gulps._

 **[0]**

 _(7:55 PM, July 4th, 23,000 B.C.)_

Mabel sat in front of what would later be Lake Mortis. A beer bottle lay next to her, half emptied. It was her fourth, not including the ones she'd enjoyed last time. She had thrown up after her first alcoholic binge but had quickly learned to suck instinct up. Just like the time traveling, after a while, it ceased becoming uncomfortable.

She was currently in the place, long before humans came to settle the area. Before even the natives had set up shop. It was cold but still beautiful. She had chosen the middle of summer to visit the area, which meant that there was less ice than there might normally be. Still, she had been sure to bring a shaggy blanket from her room back in present day.

She gripped a pebble next to her hip and tossed it across the water. It skipped across the water. Once, twice, thrice, a fourth time, a fifth time, a sixth time, and…it's the journey ended. The stone, the same stone which she always used to do this, ran out of momentum. It plunged deep, cracking against the stones which were pile at the base of the lake.

Mabel smirked. Twenty more rewinds and she might be able to skip the stone all the way to the other side of the cursed lagoon. Now wouldn't that be something? At the start of her time in Gravity Falls,

She knew what she had to do, to make sure that the shapeshifter didn't sneak aboard the car with herself, Dipper, and Wendy. She didn't want to do it. She would rather do anything in fact. But that didn't change anything.

She had to. Dipper was depending on her. And so was Wendy.

Mabel finished the same bottle which she always fished out of Stan's fridge, and tossed it into the lake, before staggering to her feet and pressing the button around her wrist.

 **[0]**

 _(11:00 PM, September 15th, 2016)_

Waddles trotted out of his owner's room at the sound of footsteps in the hall. It was the dead of night, and its owner was exhausted from the day's commotion. The pig sniffed the air, and recognized a familiar scent, standing out at the bottom of the stairs.

He moved to the top of the stairway, and saw his owner, smiling up at him. She was in different clothes and looked dirty and bruised. He quickly trotted downstairs, and as he nuzzled her legs, her smile broke.

She lowered her hand, and he ate the kibble out of it, his nose rubbing against her bony palm. When he finished, and looked up at her, wondering if she was going to cup him in her hands and take him for a ride, she revealed that she was holding something else in her other hand. Something long that glinted. Something that Waddles had never seen before.

He turned back to her face, and she began to look the way she did before crying. She began to whisper apologies and pet him excessively. Waddles stared up at her, his black eyes shining in the kitchen light which shed into the living room beside them.

She kept apologizing as she picked him up, and raised the long, shiny thing high.

"Huh? Waddles? Where are you?"

Waddles grew confused. His owner was calling him, but she was calling him from upstairs. Not right next to him.

His owner dove into the living room. He could hear her heartbeat racing, pressed up against her chest. She put him down, next to the coffee table, and turned away.

The door out of the kitchen slammed shut a moment later, and his owner tip-toed into the room, holding a baseball bat.

When she saw him, she dove over and scooped him up.

The large, angry man who always wore a suit was in the room, holding one of the sticks with a shiny end. They all seemed very angry.

 **[0]**

 _(7:00 AM, October 7th, 2016)_

Mabel kicked up dirt, grinding her teeth together as she bemoaned her inability to hurt Waddles. She through her knife to the sandy ground as she muttered and walked in circles, only growing more frustrated as she squinted in the exact same angles of sunlight as always.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. How could she be expected to murder her own pet, under the chance that it might change things? She knew that it was selfish, she knew that The Shapeshifter would have to turn into something else if Waddles was out of the picture. And she knew that she could always return, to erase the timeline in which she had killed her prized pig.

But it still wasn't fair.

She had killed two people in her life, in what could be considered self-defense at least one of the two. And it had hurt like hell, each time. The act had made her feel not at home in her own body. A voice in her head kept saying that no, that wasn't her, that wasn't her who did that thing right there, that ended a human life.

To hurt an animal, let alone one which had given her comfort when she was at her worst, was an unimaginable feat. Mabel had always become inflamed at the thought of the sickos who abused and killed animals, and even though she had good reason to do it, she still couldn't imagine cutting open Waddles.

 _It's him or Dipper_ , the part of her brain that had kept her continuing all this time muttered.

She shut her eyes and tried to conjure the image of how happy things would be, with Wendy still around and Dipper saved.

 _A knife, opening her pig's throat. His limp body lying in her exhausted arms._

She shuddered and cursed again, tugging at her own scalp.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, that she kept on having to sink lower to stay afloat. It wasn't fair to compare her sweet, adorable Waddles to an abusive prick most likely responsible her parents being kidnapped or worse. And while Preston Norwood had been a disgusting human being, Mabel liked to think that not even monsters like him deserved the death sentence.

Compared to Gideon, who had summoned Bill and was basically responsible for most of her and Dipper's injuries, he was an even less likely candidate for such punishment.

Mabel paused at that thought. _Gideon._

An alternative route occurred to her.

 **[0]**

Melody finished putting on her nightdress and exited the powder room. Her feet felt frozen against the carpet, and her brown hair shined in the light of the gas lamp that lit the hall. She called goodnight to her mother and father's bedroom and headed past her little brother's bedroom. She could hear him snoring inside, and see his toy soldiers and cup and ball, scattered beside his bed.

The door was open a crack, not wide enough for her to see him, but wide enough that she could see the moonlight across the wall. That was strange, her little brother usually slept with the curtains closed.

She shrugged a passed the door to her brother's bedroom. Then she felt the draft of cold air which flittered through his room and struck the hall. She smelled the woods right outside her brother's window.

His _open_ window.

Melody returned to the door and eased it open. The light of the hallway fixture poured inside and revealed her brother's bed, and the lady sitting there. The lady wore a shawl and a murderous expression. Her eyes glinted, just like the carving knife in her hand.

The knife which she wielded above Melody's brother's chest. Melody liked to think she did not believe in such things, but the lady must have been a witch. She was somehow withered yet youthful, and her face moved in unnatural ways.

Melody screamed. She screamed louder than she ever had before, and the woman in the shawl turned to face the girl. Melody saw her face, she saw her pale, dirty face. She saw her sunken eyes and the metal bits which lay over the woman's mouth, glinted pink and green-blue, in shades which Melody had never seen.

Guilt flashed over the woman's face, and her hand began to shake. Melody didn't have to beg for her brother's life because the door behind her swung far open. Her father burst in, his hunting rifle in hand.

But the woman was already gone. She had disappeared in a flash of blue.

Her brother sat up, his eyes wide as he glanced between his sister, his father and his mother.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he rubbed his eyes.

Their mother embraced him, nearly crying with panic. "It's alright, Gideon, you're fine. It's alright." She reassured as she held him to her neck.

Melody's father bent and hugged her, assuring her that the police would find whoever had broken in. Melody didn't disagree, but she knew that, regardless of how hard the police looked, they would not find the woman in the shawl.

 **[0]**

 _(12:02 AM. August 18th, 1957)_

 _The boy stared at the grave. The sky was overcast, everything felt cold. His foster parents stood over him, watching his every movement._

 _His friend had never seen the car coming. He could never have known._

 _It was a closed casket funeral, naturally. The body had been too damaged for anything else. A man in a robe said a few words, and his friend's entire family sobbed. This type of thing wasn't supposed to happen._

 _The boy hoped that the man who had run into his friend rotted in jail. He hated him more than he would ever hate anyone but himself._

 _He stared at the grave, while his father told him that it was time to go. He didn't want to leave, if he did, he'd have to lie in bed and think about a summer spent without his only friend. He'd have to continue in a state other than mourning._

 _He turned away and rubbed his eyes as he moved between the crowd. He broke into a run, nearly colliding with the man and the girl who hung back, around the rear of the procession. He could feel their eyes on him as he stumbled, fell in the mud, and then lurched back to his feet._

 _The boy didn't care. His parents were calling after him. The boy didn't care._

 _He crossed the meadow, he moved through the forest, and he climbed the same rope ladder which his friend had helped him construct. He lay his head against the wall of his treehouse as he stared at the soggy boards and uprooted nails._

 **[0]**

 _(8:30 PM, June 22nd, 1958)_

Blandon sat in the county prison cell, nursing his arm. The sheriff had had the decency to patch him up, although Blandon couldn't blame the man for treating him with so much distaste. Attempted child murderers were an oddity in small towns like Glass Beach, and while the sheriff was a relatively young man, he had the look of a father about him.

The cell was small, the sheriff had informed him that the last man who had been kept there, had been arrested for driving and drinking. That struck Blandon so hard in the chest, that he had nearly moaned.

The cell was also very dusty. The left-hand corner was a pocket of gossamer and the spider who had owned the collection, hung dead, trapped in its own web.

The familiar sound of a body fissuring into existence beside him occurred, and Blandon back away as Mabel Pines appeared in front of him. He had seen her as a toddler, laughing and bouncing around, pretending to be a frog. He had seen the way she would turn out.

"What do you want?" He asked as he clutched his wound. He considered her accountable for the death of Isabella McGucket and her unborn child, alongside every subsequent crime committed as a result of those deaths. Still, her responsibility for all that was minuscule compared to his indulgent self-loathing at repeated failure.

"Why can't I change anything?" Mabel asked, staring directly at the man who she had been terrified of what felt like not too long ago.

Blandon looked her up and down. Her sweater was covered in stains of every description. She had a bandage around her right leg. It looked like it needed to be changed for a clean one. Her hair had pine needles in it. She smelt of booze, and her lips were painfully cracked.

She was affected by the same distortion of movement which made him appear almost supernatural to others. Her eyes blinked at strange speeds, and the rise and fall of her chest were slowed.

Blandon sneered. "You thought it would be easy then? You thought time would just bend to your will? It takes _work_. It takes heart and soul…what was it you wanted to change anyway? Did your boyfriend dump you? Did you break your phone?"

Mabel's posture disintegrated. Her head cocked and lowered, her lips twisted, and her eyes narrowed.

"I'm trying to save my brother! And so far, I haven't tried to kill anyone who hasn't threatened me and others!" She whispered, unwilling to yell and attract the attention of the sheriff.

Blandon folded his arms. "I don't need to justify myself to you. Drastic measures need to be taken. I'd be ecstatic if your sociopathic uncle wasn't up for the chopping block, _but he is_ , and I can't change _that_."

Mabel's nostrils flared and she took a steady step closer to him. "Explain then."

Blandon swallowed, feeling a little threatened despite the amount of violence which he had endured. His eyes dropped to the device on her arm.

"If you give me that machine, I can show you." He claimed.

"Oh no, not in a million years…you give me the coordinates and date and I'll look."

Blandon sighed. He needed the machine back.

"Fine." He gave her the date and the coordinates, watching her type them in and wobble out of existence.

She returned a moment later, her eyes wide.

"Why the hell is Dipper there?" She asked, no longer carrying about the noise which she generated.

Blandon shrugged. "He stepped in the time slip. I decided to test out if he would change anything."

Mabel frowned. "You…you put my brother in a car crash…" Her teeth bared. "You put my brother in a car crash!"

Blandon stood up. "Do you know what Fiddleford McGucket did after he lost his wife? Do you know all the people who died because of his actions? Do you know what happened to his son, Archie? _He died_. Do you know what happens to his other son, Tate?!" Blandon choked, coughed a couple times, and regained his hoarse voice. "…because I do. I know how they die…I know how it's all going to turn out…" He collapsed back into his seat. "…I…I do. And I need to stop it. You have no idea; how much torment is created because of that moment."

Mabel's face went blank. "You've been trying for a long time." She stated, not as a question. "But you haven't changed anything either…have you?"

Blandon sniffed and shook his head, feeling idiotic for becoming so worked up in front of her, when she couldn't comprehend what he had been through. What he had done.

"Things have to be put right," Blandon stated, trying to re-affirm his sense of purpose.

"But how do you know that things are wrong in the first place?" Mabel asked with a raised eyebrow.

Blandon's thoughts suddenly fled from his head. He had no answer. He stumbled for one and remembered the dim encounter which had granted him the ability to traverse time.

"A man from the future. He gave me the time machine. To make things right. He showed me…the plague that destroyed everything...all the people hurt. He gave me a chance to make things right. To-to put things right." He stated, shifting in his seat at the question which he knew would come next.

"Why did he choose you?" Mabel asked, her face pale.

Blandon coughed, and admitted, realizing that he would not be able to get back to work without answering all her questions. "I was a homeless person. I didn't have anything to live for…I was avoiding a lifetime in jail. He wanted to give me a second chance."

Mabel took a deep breath and then grabbed his hand. "We're going to see this future man."

Blandon shook his head. "No! I…I can't see myself! …You know, that, right? That's why…that's why…I…umm…"

Mabel shook her head. "I'll watch. Don't worry…I…I don't want any of that stuff to happen any more than you do. Just give me the date."

Blandon stopped himself. Did he want to trust this girl? She was wasting his time; she was preventing him from putting things right.

Blandon nodded and told her the date and time.

 **[0]**

 _(12:12 AM, August 12th, 1983)_

The Futuristic Man, with the strange coat, walked among the trees of the forest as if he had done so before a million times. His boots were crusted in mud, and his eyes were concealed by a pair of snow goggles. Concealed within his coat, was enough devices to blow the prison to shreds.

He walked up to where Benjamin Blandon was hiding out. Blandon was surrounded by trash, his clothes ragged and messy. His face was a dirty, with bandages self-applied.

The Futuristic Man said his peace. He showed the man the capabilities of the device. And then he dropped the time machine at the feet of the man he hated, before turning away and striding away. If that fucker wanted to rot out here, that was fine.

The Futuristic Man knew that he would take the bait, though. He could see it happing right now, hell, he already saw it happen in coming years. The police were on Blandon's trail, and he had nothing to live for, really.

Two turns down the invisible forest path which he followed, he was confronted by both a girl he didn't know, and by Blandon himself.

"Who are you?" Mabel asked, her voice wavering.

She was intimidated. That was good. She should be.

"I don't know who the shit you are." The futuristic man replied. "But I suggest you go back to whatever backward time stream you originated in." He turned to "face" Blandon, his deep voice growing in volume as he addressed the man he hated most. "And as for you…I suppose can thank you for introducing the idea of that plague to Dipper Pines' mind. Without your intervention, that apocalypse would have been permanent. You're still as useless as ever, though."

Blandon cowered. He was about to claim that he was trying his hardest, that he was doing his best.

Then the girl reached up and tried to yank off his snow goggles. He grabbed her arm and twisted it. As she cried out, he began to laugh, in a _very_ familiar manner. "If you ever try to fuck with me again, I'll make sure that the least your brother has to worry about is a possession."

The futuristic man threw her aside and kept on strolling.

The girl called after him. "The Time Machine can't change anything…can it?"

He paused and tilted his head. He chuckled, in a way that reminded the girl of something. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not remember what it was. "Go ask its creators. April 15th, 9:00 PM, 1984. Pines Residence."

With that block of knowledge dropped, he turned away. And blinked out of existence.

 **[0]**

 _(April 15th, 9:00 PM, 1984)_

McGucket descended the basement stairs with the device clamped around his wrist. It shined the light of the kitchen which bathed his scarecrow frame and wet coat, making him resemble something of a bogeyman despite his short stature. Ford's basement was lit only by the occasionally flash of blue sparks, originating from where Ford was welding one of the final pieces in place.

He had been repairing the machine over the past two weeks, angry at McGucket, ever since he used it without permission and caused the machine to nearly implode. He still had scars on his lower back from the fissure of energy which his attempts had caused.

McGucket reached the bottom step and ceased his journey. He spoke with phlegm thick in the back of his throat. "Ford? …We need to talk about the Duration Traveler."

Mabel and Blandon stood at the top of the stairs, listening to the conversation between McGucket and Ford. It was like trying to discern the meanings of two quantum physics lectures occurring at the same time. While McGucket clearly knew less than Ford.

Neither had been seen or intended to be. But Blandon looked almost afraid to glance at McGucket.

Still, despite these precautions and their ignorance, the two of them got the gist of what the two were discussing.

Apparently, the time machine had been constructed from something called "The Trans-Galactic" engine. Apparently, it worked on a one-track system. Which meant that, while it could change the future of it being used, it could not affect the past, or else the machine and its owner might be "permanently temporally displaced."

Apparently, the machine was connecting to some monstrosity which fed on people trapped in "grandfather paradoxes" and "casual loops." When Ford had discovered what he was working with, he created a failsafe system. The machine would generate obstacles, to prevent people from changing the thing that they intended to, and thus creating the paradox ("if the event they changed never happened why did they go back in time?"), and releasing the monster.

McGucket screamed at Ford, calling him deranged for "allying" himself with these "trans-dimensional" beings. Ford told him that he was doing his best and that McGucket

Blandon started having a panic attack. He grabbed the time machine from Mabel and yanked it from her arm. She managed to grab him before he left her, marooned before she had even been born.

 **[0]**

 _(6:03 PM, August 7th, 1983)_

 _The man had left the bar after his fourth drink. He had trouble getting into the car. He didn't drink often, and despite his body weight, still felt unsteady. But it wasn't too dark, and it wasn't as if there was an alternative to driving home that he would consider._

 _He sped up._

 _He jerked out of the parking lot and headed down the dirt road, his eyes on the horizon. Maybe he would stay up all night, watch TV. His life was the definition of a rut, so what else was he supposed to do?_

 _He sped up._

 _His hands gripped the steering wheel, as he turned a corner and headed down the road which led to the highway. Home. His TV, his couch. Home where he could be alone._

 _He sped up and shifted lanes temporarily to pass a black sedan._

 _He spotted a strangely dressed girl standing on the corner up ahead. She must have been a homeless person. He returned his attention to the road and turned the corner._

 _He barreled into a station wagon. The airbag went off, a swift punch to his right eye. Stars exploded across his vision. Glass sliced across the top of his nose, cutting the sensitive area next to one of his eyes._

 _The sharp biting pain was replaced by an ache. The man lifted his leg and crawled out the passenger side door. He heaved, with smoke billowing into the air and stinging his eyes. The gas tank of the station wagon must have been struck, because next thing he knew, he was on fire._

 _He rolled across the pavement screaming. When the fire had extinguished, he stumbled to his feet, one leg was swollen._

 _There was a teenager, dragging a pregnant lady out of the car he had struck. Oh, god…what had he done?_

 _Blandon ran. Blandon ran like he had never. Blandon ran until the intense pain was too great for him to continue. In all the chaos, he remained unseen._

 **[0]**

"You were the driver…you were the person who killed them…weren't you?" Mabel asked as she watched Blandon heave and stare at the lake.

He remained silent, but with quivering hands, he removed his goggles, revealing one eye to be scarred, and the other to be surrounded by scars. He fell to his knees and nodded, experiencing a total, mental collapse at the knowledge that all he had done was for nothing. And that he could not undo the tragedy which he had set upon the world.

He didn't even realize when Mabel brought him to the lakeside, many, many years before there ever was a town.

She waited until his breathing pattern had returned to normal.

"Why?" She finally asked.

He showed her. He showed her the day he was born, he showed her the day that his best friend died, and he showed her the day that he had caused the wreck.

When they returned to the lakeside, she didn't look the least bit more sympathetic (not that he expected her to). They sat in silence for a while, with her gazing off into the distance while he tried to comprehend his own reflection and where it might take him.

They were both sitting on the beach, her atop a large rock, when he finally spoke.

"I wish I'd never been born…" He said. "…I've caused nothing but grief." He removed the time machine from his arm and handed it to her. "Go home. I don't have anything to return to."

Mabel glanced at the machine, and then back at him.

"Stop it." She instructed.

Blandon turned to face her.

"You could have gone to jail…to work off your sentence. That would have been your salvation. But you can't take responsibility for other people's actions. Whatever McGucket did after that moment…that's on _him_. And whatever his son did, that's on his son. I'm sorry, but I will not spend another second listening to you blame yourself for things which aren't your fault."

"But…I…"

"Yes, you did something terrible. You made a series of _terrible_ decisions. But you can't evade responsibility for those…you can't erase your decisions. They stick with you. They make you who you are. Even if you're a totally shitty person…you chose to be that way. How many years have you been slaving to set things right? How many times have you watched that same worst moment of your entire life?"

Blandon shrugged. "I lost count after the twentieth rewind."

Mabel stood up. "I made decisions which led to my brother losing his eye. There a bunch of people right now, probably dead because of him." She took a deep breath. "But that was my brother's decision…I can't waste my whole life trying to undo that one shitty decision. And neither can you. We need to go back…"

"I don't have anything to go back to," Blandon stated, his eyes turning to the purple evening of the sky.

Mabel sighed. "C'mon…I want to test something." She offered her hand.

Blandon glanced at it, and then raised his eyes to hers. She was not going to give up on him.

 _Why?_

"Fuh-fine." He agreed with a sniff.

 **[0]**

 _(11:58 PM, December 31st, 2099)_

The air was clean. People were wearing strange clothes, and many had strange devices strapped to their faces. Blandon could see rockets taking off to celebrate the New Year.

"Are you going to be happy here?" Mabel asked as Blandon tried to take in the automatic cars and the solar powered homes.

Blandon turned to her. "Why are you doing this?" He asked, breathlessly.

"Because if I can't forgive you…then I will never be able to forgive my brother." She stated, with an unwavering voice. "…or myself. Because I am possibly the only person in the universe who knows what you've been through…and because I'm sick of unhappy endings. I'm going to make one person happy before I die…even if it kills me."

Blandon glanced back at her and down at the machine which had turned his life into torment for what felt like an eternity.

"Thank you." He stated, no longer out of breath or even upset. Instead, a serene quality had taken over his voice.

Mabel waved at him, as he walked out of their spot behind a tree. He waved back. And he was still waving when she ceased to exist in this time.

 **[0]**

 _(6:22 PM, September 30th, 2016)_

Pacifica was in the middle of studying when she heard a tap on the window doors leading to her bedroom balcony. She frowned, stood, and moved to the doors with her hands in fists. She didn't know who was out there, but it was nearly impossible, not only to evade grounds security but to climb onto the balcony from anywhere else.

A second knocking followed, and Pacifica realized that whatever was behind it, would not leave soon. She eased the right-side door open an inch, and Mabel smiled at her from the other side.

"Hey Paz…could you be a dear and let me in?"

Pacifica went a little pale but did not ask why Mabel was here or how she had reached the balcony. She was glad to see her, considering that just yesterday had been Wendy's funeral. From the way that she stumbled in, and the stench of beer on her, Pacifica could determine how her ex was coping.

"I figured…" Mabel mumbled as she stepped inside, wearing a skirt and sweater that were covered in dirt and looked wet. "…that I might as well see what all the fuss about alcohol is for. And then I…I figured that you always have a door open for me…"

Pacifica ran to the balcony railing and glanced over the side. There was a security guard below, taking a walk through the exotic garden. There were no ropes, no ladder. Nothing. Even if she had somehow flown, she would have been spotted.

It was a cloudless night, and the moonlight was shining off the fountain in the center of the garden. The smell of the pine trees which sway just beyond the grounds wall was thick and the air had a deathly chill to it.

She closed the doors to the balcony before turning to Mabel. The brunette was on the bed, staring at all the photos which Pacifica had of her. When she noticed Pacifica's nervousness and sudden shame, she gave the blonde a smile which reminded Pacifica of when her mother had downed a few too many martinis.

"Relax…" Mabel stated as she turned away. "…I've had worse admirers."

Pacifica moved to Mabel's side and sat down without touching her. "Mabel…why are you here? I thought…I thought you didn't want anything to do with me."

Mabel nodded. "I didn't. But now I'm tired…and I…I realized I want to have sex with someone before I die. So, I figured…why not you? If I'm going to die…I mean…everyone's going to die. I mean if I'm going to have sex…it might as well be the only person that I've ever loved."

Pacifica's jaw hung loosely as she tried to process Mabel's ramblings. She tried speaking, but her voice had gone dry as the desert. "You…you love me?" She stammered, her eyes locked on Mabel's bittersweet look.

"Of course. If I didn't, I wouldn't hate you so much." Mabel stated, her eyes on the corner of the room.

Mabel stood up and moved to one of the photos of herself. She looked at it with her face contorted by nostalgia.

"When you and I were holding hands and kissing and I was embarrassing you and you were trying to be a sweet person to make me happy instead of acting like yourself…when we were deep in all of that bullshit…it lasted forever."

Pacifica stood. She could hardly believe what she was about to say. "Mabel…I…I don't want you to regret…you know…have any regrets. I don't want you to hate yourself for getting drunk and coming over here. I want to…I want to earn…being intimate with you."

"I know," Mabel responded, and when she turned back toward Pacifica, she looked a thousand years old.

She rolled down the right sleeve of her sweater and her eyes shined as her hand swept over a large piece of metal which constricted her arm. Without looking away from Pacifica, she swept her hand along it and pressed a couple buttons instinctually.

"Please take my hand." She offered, suddenly sobered then Pacifica had ever seen her.

Pacifica's eyes stayed on the device. "Mabel…what the hell is that thing?"

"Duration Traveler. It allows you to look at things in the future and the past. But it can't change anything before the time at which it latched onto a new owner." Mabel answered matter of factly. "Now…are you going to take my hand or not?"

Pacifica glanced at the device. It looked otherworldly. It looked like Mabel should be infested with cancer, just from wearing it. But Mabel's eyes had that rare, peaceful quality about them. Like a magnet.

She rolled her eyes and took Mabel's hand, trying not to look terrified. "Fine."

Mabel pulled her close, giggling at the way that Pacifica blushed at their proximity. "You'll want to close your eyes for this next bit," Mabel stated as she pressed a small button.

When Pacifica opened her eyes, she was standing next to Mabel, in front of Lake Mortis. Except, it wasn't Lake Mortis because her mother's lake house wasn't there, and neither were the public restrooms or Tate McGucket's bait and tackle shop.

"Mabel…where are we?" Pacifica asked, a little sick.

"Wait for it," Mabel responded, watching the sky with a hollow smile.

The sun finished its journey, and the stars came out. One by one, uninterrupted by any sources of light. It was deathly cold, but a couple blankets and coats had been laid over for their arrival (presumably by Mabel).

It was beautiful. So, beautiful in fact, that Pacifica was, for once in her life, enchanted not by the notion of escape. She no longer wanted freedom or Mabel, or stability or a regular childhood. She just wanted this moment to last forever.

The stars reflected across the water, and there was no monster beneath the waves. Just some fish.

"Mabel…why did you bring me here?" Pacifica asked, afraid of the response.

"I wanted to make you happy. I understand how easy it is to do something horrible…when you think you're doing the right thing." Mabel responded. "And…I wanted to apologize for killing your dad. I should have had him arrested…it wouldn't have been that hard. He would be behind bars, and maybe your mother would too. Then you could be happy."

Pacifica glanced over at her friend. In the light of the half moon and the brilliant stars, her face was beautiful. She resembled one of those perfect statues which Pacifica's mother had commissioned behind the house. Except she was alive. And she cared about Pacifica.

Mabel picked up a stone. She looked ready to toss it but then thought better of it. "Do you know how to skip a stone?" Mabel asked, her breath manifesting in the frigid air.

Pacifica shook her head.

"Figures, you know judo and fencing but you don't know how to throw a skipping stone," Mabel commented, with a wistful smile. She took Pacifica's left hand, again causing the other girl to blush.

She pressed the stone into the blonde's hand and smiled at her. "Now…rear back your hand, stare at your objective, and…release! Now! Throw it!"

Pacifica flung the smooth stone and it bounded twice across the mirror which reflected all the cosmos to be seen from their vantage point. And then it plummeted. She avoided looking at Mabel.

"I told you I didn't know how to do it." She stated, flicking a bit of her hair out of her face and rubbing her hands together for warmth.

"You did wonderfully," Mabel replied, leaning her head against Pacifica's shoulders.

"It doesn't matter how far you got. What matters is that you tried." Mabel whispered, her eyes struggling to stay open as she spoke. "You know…that's the funny thing…we're always rushing about; we're always terrified that we are going to lose all our time. It's all going to go down the drain, and we have to get everything over with as soon as possible."

She yawned in the painfully adorable way that she did most things, and Pacifica's heart ached in the way that only Mabel could make it. She continued with a sleepy voice and stretched her arms as she gazed at the stars. "…but the best things in the world take forever to be over. And before you know, they are over. But during them, between the middle and the end…we have forever. And that's the way I felt when I was with you."

For a moment, Pacifica thought that Mabel might fall apart. That this was her way of asking for them to get back together. Then Mabel broke the utter silence.

"But we ended. You can't go back."

With that, she rolled down her sleeve, and pressed the big red button marked "RETURN." And her beautiful moment with Pacifica was deleted forever.

That was good. Mabel didn't want to screw with the blonde's head, and she most definitely would if Pacifica first had an amazing experience and then got yelled at when she tried to share her condolences.

Mabel was teleported back to The Kitchen of The Shack, a full five minutes after she left. Bill was laughing in Dipper's body. And there was chanting outside. In fact, the windows were rattling.

"Brenda?" Mabel called, her brow furrowed.

The kitchen window exploded in a shower of glass. The back door was ripped off its hinges, and the upstairs windows were broken. Feet slammed down the staircase, and the front door was beaten in with a log acting as a battering ram.

Claws. Human claws with yellowed nails and wrinkled, thin hands, clutched her from every angle. First by the hand. Then by the hair, her arms, her legs. The people in blood red hoods tore the device around her wrist off and stepped on it. It crunched like a discarded peanut shell.

They were yelling at her. Calling her a witch, claiming that she was unnatural and that "she would regret her transgressions."

They gagged her, and tied her hands behind her back, at an angle at which Bill's mark was pointing towards her own back. She watched as they untied Dipper, only to re-tie him, and force him to his knees. Someone shoved her hard in the shoulders, and she did likewise, kneeling beside her possessed brother.

The hooded people parted to allow their leader through, and he strode in from the back door. He was ancient. Mabel couldn't see his face because of his hood, but his hands were covered in tattoos.

He chuckled and spoke in the kind of rasp that she hadn't known physically possible to create. "Brothers and sisters of the congregation…we are gathered here tonight to save these poor youths from perdition. Let us not see them as in equals, but as children…" He ducked his hand and drew his hand across both Dipper's cheek and her own. "…children in need of a punishment. A punishment so that they can learn their lesson..."

Mabel whimpered. Bill made a sound like he was relishing every terrifying moment in this guy's presence.

"We will cleanse them of their impurities…praise be to The Founder." The man stated as two hooded figures moved in front of the twins.

 _"We will cleanse them."_ The two hooded figures stated as they pulled hoods over Mabel and Dipper's heads.

 _"Praise be to The Founder."_ All four dozen cultists repeated as they dragged the twins outside. Mabel couldn't see a thing, but she could feel the heat of The Shack and the surrounding forest being set on fire.

 **[0]**

 **Message:** **Dne seirots lla ton dna, das era sgnidne lla ton, yppah era sgnidne lla ton.**

 **Comments:**

 _Coldblue:_

 _"Tate McGucket: God, what led this man to the point he is the leader of some Cult and doing something so shady that nobody knows about?"_

 ** _That should be revealed very soon._**

 _Battleangel911:_

 _"This is definitely a darker version of the Sock Opera episode in the show. I'm looking forward to the next chapter. I do have a suggestion, I noticed you use the words 'licked his/her lips ' frequently. Maybe say 'bit his lip' to be different. Or use the term for one character as a special trait."_

 ** _Biting your lip is a completely different emotional tell than licking your lips, which indicates that your lips are dry. I'll try not to use it too much._**

 ** _When you write a story with this many chapters, you tend to recycle actions._**


	28. S2, E10: B Plot

**Episode 10: B Plot**

* * *

 _"Greatness is not manifested by unlimited pragmatism, which places such a high premium on the end justifying any means and any methods."_ – **Margaret Chase Smith**

 _"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." –_ **Maya Angelou**

* * *

Manda drifted through the wet, black woods, her eyes on the truck which brought Tate McGucket, his men, and his prisoners to the lake which had changed her. She closed her eyes and heard the call of the being deep below the water.

 _Soon. Not yet. But soon._

It had been surprisingly easy to escape after the monster which B'ylb'zfi'r had unleashed slammed through half of her cell. In the panic, none of the guards had noticed her slinking to the stairs, and the SBE building's electricity had shut off briefly, allowing her to go by without being spotted by the security cameras.

She closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye, she could see Brenda Gallagher and Pacifica Norwood huddled in the back of the truck. Pacifica was trying to figure a way out of the truck, while Brenda had accepted her fate. The latter of the two had seen what Tate was capable of and knew that escape would only piss him off more. With Candy's life in the balance, and having been tracked down so easily, she had essentially given up.

Good. People who gave up made better meals for the hollow one. Soon they would be dragged out, restrained, and tossed in his speed boat.

She could see every person inside the mansion. She could see what they were doing. And she could detect all their desires.

Tonight was going to be the most fun which this valley had experienced, since B'ylb'zfi'r's last attempt at escaping the Nightmare realm.

 **[0]**

Stan stopped the car the moment that he saw flames. He, his brother, Agent Lockhart (intent on getting another look at Dipper), and McGucket all exited the car in a rush. The four men sprinted down the gravel path, but they all came to a halt at the edge of the parking lot. Stan was the first to pause, the breath taken out of him by the hellish scene.

The roof of The Shack, the front porch, and the back porch, were all on burning at an alarming pace. Several adjacent trees had also been lit, and streams of water, originating from the firemen and a bright red firetruck parked in his lot, impaled the building. It was eleven in the morning, but the light of the fire meant that Stan could survey most of the scene in apocalyptic detail.

He jumped back into their movement as McGucket caught up to him. Ford called out for him to be careful as he lunged towards his house of over thirty decades. He was stopped ten feet from his home when a fireman stepped between him and the blaze.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay where you are until the flames are extinguished." The man asked, his glove against Stan's chest.

Stan glanced at the man's face, and then back at the building. He took a second to catch his breath, as Lockhart moved to the fire chief, and showed his badge.

When he spoke, his bones ached harder than ever before. "Is there…was there anyone in there?! My niece and my nephew…they were inside the house when I left!"

The fireman shook his head. "There's no one inside, that we've _seen or heard_ so far, sir. There was a pig, but he ran off into the woods. This was your house?"

Stan gave a numb nod.

"Maybe you should sit down." The fireman suggested, lowering his glove. "How old were your niece and nephew?"

"Sixteen." Stan uttered his eyes still unmoving from the fire.

"Well, I'm sure they must have left before we arrived. We would have found them by now. ...Maybe you should sit down sir."

He gave another numb nod and sat down on a nearby rock. Ford knelt a few feet away, pinched something between his fingers, and then stood up with a dark look in his eyes. Lockhart returned with a heavy look.

"According to the fire chief, it looks like this was most likely arson," Lockhart stated as he adjusted his sunglasses. The light of the blaze reflected perfectly in them, to make him look like a messenger of the apocalypse. "There were containers of gasoline inside. The call that there was a fire, came from someone driving by."

McGucket removed his hands from his sides as he spoke. "Well, what else would it be? Mabel wouldn't just run away if a fire was started accidentally…"

Stan's knuckles cracked. "What if Bill did it? What if he used Dipper's body…what if-"

Ford spoke up, standing right behind McGucket now, and moving like a ghost. "There are tire tracks behind the house, from a truck and some vans. They are wet…and have traces of lake scum. I suspect that the owners of those vehicles are behind the fire and have taken Dipper and Mabel."

"The Idionists," Stan muttered, rage replacing his exhaustion in one swoop.

"I expect as much." Stated Ford, his hand on his belt.

"Who are The Idionists?" Lockhart asked as he glanced between the two of them.

McGucket answered before Ford or Stan could. His eyes were locked on the fire, and his voice was barely audible. "A cult. Led by my son…" One of Lockhart's eyebrows raised, but neither Stan nor Ford elaborated. McGucket just kept on muttering. "…oh god…oh god…what has he done?"

Stan glanced up at the fireman who had stopped him.

Stan knew who the fireman was. He worked at the grocery joint down on Mox Street, at the place that Priscilla owned. He volunteered at the local fire department. He had a son if Stan wasn't mistaken.

He needed to go home. He needed to go home and hold his family tight and sleep for a week because tonight would be a bloodbath if anyone hurt his niece and nephew.

Ford stepped over to Lockhart. "Why don't you organize a couple trucks of SWATT, and meet us by the lake in half an hour? I think you'll find everyone inside the Norwood Lake Mansion to be guilty of several crimes."

Lockhart looked resistant towards the idea of mobilizing troops after so much trauma already tonight but nodded.

McGucket turned to Ford. "Please…you have to let me talk to Tate before you go bursting in there…he…he's just confused."

Stan answered for Ford as he stood up. "He knew what he was doing…who he was dealing with."

Ford put a hand on McGucket's shoulder as he spoke, and locked his vision with Stan's. "We won't kill him, alright?"

McGucket swallowed and gave his own broken nod. Sweat was pouring down his brow, and Stan suspected that it was from more than just the raging inferno close by.

A black sedan rolled down the driveway, and toward them. It stopped a couple feet away, and all three elderly men tensed. Ford removed a small device from his belt, Stan removed a pistol from his ankle, and McGucket removed the tranquilizer rifle which had been hanging on his back via a strap.

Out stepped, Robbie Valentino, wincing with every step and covered from head to toe in bandages. When he saw the weapons, which they were holding, he, just like the firemen, balked and held up his hands.

"Please!" He begged. "Tambry is in trouble."

"Who is he?" Ford asked, the only one of them three to not lower his weapon.

Stan answered as he put his hand on Ford's, and gently lowered the small, metal wand in his hand. "He's a friend. Robbie, what happened to your girlfriend?"

Guilt appeared and disappeared briefly in Robbie's eyes. "What…what happened? Are Mabel and Dipper…are they…?"

Stan's eyes narrowed. He considered himself personally responsible. _Where had all those nicks and scratches come from this time?_

"They've been kidnapped…" Stan stated. "…by Norwood and her goons." Relief flooded Robbie's face. "You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"

Robbie went pale and shook his head.

Ford stepped closer. "We might want to take this conversation to someplace a little safer."

Robbie agreed, and the four of them moved closer to the tree line, where the trees had not yet been consumed by fire. The shade was freezing, and Robbie had to hobble there. Stan would have felt bad for him if he didn't suspect that he had given up some crucial information under duress.

"You said that something happened to your girlfriend?" Ford asked.

Robbie nodded, the color returning to him, and a strong-minded look fading into his eyes. "She…she's been captured. By this…woman with magic…it's my fault, I promised I would build her this 'tribute' if she…she gave me my arm back."

Ford got the same look in his eye which he used to get whenever he and Stan would play hide and seek.

"She isn't human…is she?" He asked, now raising his metal rod.

Robbie shook his head. He looked ready to apologize for coming to them like this, but Ford turned to Stan and McGucket. "Can you two handle the Idionists without me?"

Both nodded, Stan less sure than his shorter companion.

"Excellent..." Ford stated, as he clapped a hand on Robbie's shoulder, and turned toward his brother and former lab assistant. "I'll solve this guy's problem. Call me if you need back up, we'll re-group at the Sparts Motel. That place is still open, correct?"

Stan nodded and Ford wished them good luck before tugging Robbie over to his car. McGucket met Stan's eye as Tambry's car pulled out of the lot.

His hardened expression almost scared Stan. "C'mon…it's time I had a few words with my son."

 **[0]**

Tate McGucket was in a shitty mood.

Roping a couple teenagers and throwing them on his speed boat was not his idea of a good Friday night. Especially when one of them was essentially innocent in his dealings. Brenda had made her bed, and he was not about to let her wriggle out of the consequences of her actions.

Pacifica, on the other hand, was screwed before she had even openly defied him. Priscilla had told him just a few nights ago, that, if he broke Pacifica's spirit, then he could have full control over the mansion. Now, Tate knew that she had only made this deal with him because she believed that the end was nigh. But he didn't care. Too long he had been under the bitch's thumb, and if mentally and physically abusing her daughter beyond repair was what it took for him to get what he deserved, then so be it.

Once he legally owned the mansion, he could be rid of Priscilla once and for all, and would never have to tolerate her bullshit again.

He watched Pacifica struggle, Brenda too vacant to do so. A shame. If she put up a fight, it would indicate that she might make this all worth his while. Now, she was going to fall in the first round, and the whole thing would just be a waste of time.

As well, Tate had been hoping that she would triumph. She had a plucky spirit, and he hated it every time that spirit was drowned under a longing for external gratification. If she won, then she could take her girlfriend and leave. Initially, he had missed having her under his control, but she and her girlfriend were just reminders of Stan Pines and his father's bullshit, and the longer that they hung around, the more he wanted them out of his little bubble. They had done something which upset the voice in his head.

But Brenda still owed him, and he knew that, given her current state, she was unlikely to survive long enough to see the end of her debt.

As they approached the house, Tate noticed that clouds were circling above. It was going to snow tonight.

He closed his eyes and felt the pulse beneath the water. It thought in synchrony with his heartbeat. In synch with all their heartbeats.

It demanded, and he fulfilled those demands.

He eased off the engine and landed on the patch of sand where he always did. He threw his keys to Austin, his second-hand man, and instructed him to land the ship in the grotto. Meanwhile, he and Bruce picked up their captives and dragged them up the stone steps which had been carved into the cliff.

He held Brenda, while Bruce held Pacifica. She still had not stopped struggling, and Tate seethed when she tried to kick Bruce in the shin. Didn't she get it? Why didn't she just surrender?

He removed his gun and pointed it at her. "You are coming with us inside the mansion…whether you come with all of your fingers…or just some of them, that's up to you."

Her eyes looked larger with the moon reflecting off them. She ceased her struggling, and it occurred to Tate, how vulnerable she looked. She was wearing only a tee shirt, her coat lost somewhere along the way, and her shorts. She must not have expected how cold it would be.

The goosebumps on her perfect cleavage were more tempting than most of the trophy wives and hookers who offered themselves willing to him.

Tate shuddered. It was because she looked like her mother, that he wanted her. He wanted to punish Priscilla for frustrating him, for belittling him, for mocking him so often. For turning him into this…a guy about to violently violate a young girl.

Well, it was Priscilla's fault if he pretended that there hadn't been a being, whispering in his ear ever since he was fifteen. It wanted to him to continue, it encouraged all his indulgences. And the worst bit was that Tate could usually hide behind being unable to get away with those indulgences. He had to be sharp, he had to be on his feet. He had to be in control.

But this time, he knew well that not only would Priscilla not hold him accountable, but she might encourage him to rape her own daughter. People like her didn't deserve a family to screw with. They were just like his dad. Able to talk their way out of any situation, and able to talk others into ruining each other's lives.

And that was the thing that really got him. He had never wanted to sexually assault someone before. It had always been more of a turn on that despite his ugliness and his scrawniness, he could convince any chick he wanted into going down on him. But his father had held conferences with a one-eyed man who did whatever he was told. And no matter how much Tate hated his father, he would rather be him, the one in charge, than the simpering brute.

But Priscilla was Fiddleford McGucket ordering that his child be "broken in", and he was the one-eyed man.

He ground his teeth together and turned away from Pacifica. He addressed Bruce as he gazed at the clean black lake bellow him. "C'mon, let's get these cunts inside."

Tate swung open the electric fence door so hard that it smacked against the inside of the fence. He and his "guests" were let inside without second thought. No one was really in charge of maintaining security, but he had stationed a couple men at the front and back entrances after Stan Pines had burst in, threatened Priscilla and left in a huff.

Priscilla and all her wealthy friends had started bitching to him about privacy after that, and he had been forced to put a couple extra men on patrol.

He had Bruce take Brenda into The Pit, to ready for her to perform, and he marched Pacifica up the stairs, to the top floor. It was an area sectioned off specifically for him, Priscilla, and anyone they took with them. He caught the guard at the door, with a redhead's tongue in his mouth, and the taller, bald man, muttered apologies as he opened the door for them.

Tate was comforted by his fear; that fear indicated that Tate had control over the situation. And when Tate had control, he didn't feel like a walking corpse. That's why Tate always hired people stronger than him, because if they were smarter, he might have something to worry about. But Tate had been a genius since age six when he had figured out how to siphon off all cable channels to his house. As such, he had yet to run into someone who was smarter than himself (another reason to add to the long list of ones why he should stay away from his father).

The top floor was a relatively small room, decked out to resemble the balcony of an extravagant theater. With its open windows, it revealed the stairway running straight down through the building. From it, Tate could see every level. Every drug induced carnal act.

Chairs lay all around, with little holders for popcorn bags. Tables with ash trays and holders for Hookahs. Crimson curtains hung beside each window. A mega-screen sat in the center of the tunnel down to the basement, showing off a vacant, concrete room.

Tate removed Pacifica's bindings, and then her gag, and tossed her against the far wall. She raised her hands as if to judo chop him, fierceness returning to her features. She was just like Priscilla, pretending to be helpless when it suited her.

"Your dad beat you, right?" Tate asked as he raised his gun and she dropped her fists.

"Why do you-"

"Yes or no. In case you couldn't tell, I'm not in the best mood today, so unless I act a question, keep your trap shut." He responded as he removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and popped one out.

After a moment of silence, Pacifica nodded and lowered her face like a whipped puppy.

"Did he molest you?" Tate asked, pressing the cigarette between his teeth and removing a lighter from his left-hand pocket.

Pacifica didn't move her head in the slightest, but he could hear her breathing hitch. Her fingers curled towards her palm, and she rasped "No."

Tate lit his cigarette after a couple flicks of his lighter while keeping his gun on her. Her skin was perfectly tanned. She didn't have to play at being beautiful like Priscilla, she was the actual thing.

 _Goddamn it._ He thought as he tossed his lighter on one of the velvet sofas which faced the mega-screen.

He offered her a cigarette, and she took it with the haste of someone trying to appease their tormentor.

Tate didn't mind. If she was afraid of him, that meant he had control over the situation. Even if he was on the verge of descending into frustrated perversion, and felt powerless to prevent himself from doing so.

"Your mom told me that you've been acting wrong ever since your girlfriend snapped your dad's neck."

"She's not my-" Pacifica paused in her correct, the cigarette still in her hand. She was holding it wrong and had yet to light it.

She re-thought her statement before continuing. "She's not part of this."

Tate smirked. "Don't worry, blondie. If the old man is around, I've got no intention of laying a hand on her pretty little head. One of my people tried to hold her brother and he ended up in prison."

He had disciplined Brenda hard that night, for beating the shit out of Richneck and getting him arrested. He had still been as impressed as hell.

"You mean…Stan?" Pacifica asked her back pressed against the wall now that he had stepped closer.

Tate nodded and turned away as he exhaled.

"Sorry, you had to deal with that." He awkwardly apologized. "You seem nice enough."

He took another puff, before he continued, refusing to meet her eye. If they were going to be here all night, he might as well kick off the "breaking in" via a little storytelling.

"My old man never laid a finger on me. In fact, he stopped looking at me not long after my ma croaked. He would always come home in the middle of the night…and I would hear his boots on the front porch steps…and I would pray to God and Jesus and all that bullshit that he wouldn't come in. But sure enough…he would. He would come in, covered in mud and…usually someone else's blood. He would come in, looking like the fucking reaper in his red hood."

He paused and had to glance at her reaction with his peripheral vision. She was disturbed _and_ surprised. She must have hung around his worthless father to impress Stanford's little niece.

If she had known what Fiddleford McGucket had done, Tate wondered if she would have preferred her own father's monstrous company.

He kicked the red carpet at his feet, before upping his game. Tate had always been good at monster stories, and every single monster that he told of had just reflected his memories of his father. "He started leaving cans, papers, guns…around the house. His buddies started coming by as well, of their boots scraping on the front porch steps. He had made a league of bogeymen by the time I was old enough to jerk off."

Despite his best efforts, Tate McGucket failed to keep emotion out of his voice as he told what he considered his father's crowning moment of neglect. "…he let my little brother starve to death when he was one year old." He turned to face her and gave a crooked smile of yellowed teeth that he would never clean. "We didn't even have a proper burial. Archie got scooped into a trash bag and carried off by this guy that I'd never even met. Did he comfort me? Did he even apologize? No…daddy just went back to work…daddy went back to convincing loonies to chase down people he didn't like. He acted like Archie wasn't even his son."

He relished her disgust. Not that he was interested in sympathy. Tate McGucket had lived through too much horror to desire pity. No, he enjoyed the fact that even though her mother was Priscilla, he could still sicken her. It distracted him from how fucked up he was, and it meant that he had control.

"I remember that Archie looked all red and purple…I thought that he had gone to sleep when he stopped screaming…I only figured it out years later what had really happened. …what my old man and his one-eyed buddy had done."

Pacifica closed her eyes and shook her head. "Please…" She begged.

Tate's smile disappeared. He smudged out his cigarette on his ashtray. The voice that was constantly muttering in the back of his head rose to a tidal wave of noise.

 **Tearheropentearwhatsleftofheroutmakehernoticeitsbeentoolongturnherstraightsendherdowntomeandshellbegtobebackinyourarmsmakeherallredandpurpleinsideoutsideallthroughdowntothesoulthroughandthroughandthrough-**

Tate shook off the overwhelming voice, and his own sounded puny when he changed the subject. "Why did you stand up for your little friend?"

Pacifica frowned. "What? I don't-"

"You could have handed her over…why did you refuse?" He asked as he removed a second cigarette from his red and white pack. His grip on his gun lapsed so that it pointed at the floor.

Pacifica bristled. "I'm not like you. I'm not a slime ball. I don't abandon people just because they've messed up or they're in trouble."

Tate squinted. "Right…that's why you were there for Stanford's nephew when he stabbed his eye in front of a bunch of children."

Pacifica's fingers curled again. But her shock quickly turned to rage at his sarcasm. "Why did you bring me here?!" She shouted.

Tate was going to remind her that he would be asking the questions. But instead, he lit his cigarette and gestured for her to come closer.

She hesitated, but when a hard look flashed across his face, she approached, with the shyness of a girl at the prom. Tate grabbed his lighter, tossed it up and down a couple times, before setting his gun down on the armrest and grabbing her right hand. He brought her hand to her mouth and adjusted her cigarette so that it was being held correctly. He lit it with just one flick, and pressed it to her lips, his face inches from hers.

He spoke as the cigarette glowed, enjoying that he could smell her sweat. "If I break you in, then…your ma is going to let me run this shithole on my own." Her breath hitched, and he found it amusing how much she was trying not to flinch. "…I guess she got tired of screwing body trainers and decided to make me manager of the asylum."

Pacifica spat the cigarette into his face. Her knee slammed into his stomach, forcing him to tumble backward. She scooped up the revolver and aimed it at him as he knelt on the ground, choking for breath.

Tate placed his palms against the shag carpet and gave her the same shitty grin that he had given to everyone who had tried to kill him. He had a rule which he had followed throughout his career of sponsoring and organizing illegal past times.

 _Don't kill them, unless they try to kill you_. That was because every time he did shoot somebody, he thought about a baby starving to death because mean old Tate McGucket had sent his or her daddy to the lake floor.

He smirked. "It's empty." He stated as he stood, and she followed his every movement with the barrel of the gun.

She didn't budge. "You're lying." She insisted, looking sweatier than ever. Tate knew how disgusting it was, but she was hotter than ever, glaring at him and ready to shoot his balls off.

He pressed the palms of his hands against the carpet as he uttered his Oscar worthy next line. "Go ahead and try it then, blondie."

He could see that she didn't want to kill him. She didn't want to even maim him after all he had done to her. That made the loathing in his belly grow tenfold, with the knowledge that she was so much more innocent than he'd expected.

Instead of firing, she kept her gun on him as she inched toward the door out of the room. Tate kept his palms splayed, and kept on grinning.

As she reached the door, Pacifica glanced at the knob. Tate took his chance, and with a being he could not understand screaming in his head, he charged her. She fired.

He smacked her across the side, and she dropped the gun as she hit the floor. She didn't surrender, however. Instead, she kicked him in the nose and scrambled to stand as he cried out.

The door to the top floor opened, and the idiot who had been making out with the redhead grabbed Pacifica by both of her arms.

"You alright, Boss?" He asked as he slammed her against the wall and twisted her arm until she admitted defeat.

Tate picked himself up and chuckled. He wiped a spot of blood from his nose and looked her up and down as he spoke. "She's not bad. Not bad for a brat at all…" He muttered as he picked up the ropes which he had shed from her.

"Throw her on the floor…" He cracked his neck. "I want to tie her up myself."

The idiot looked ready to ask if he was sure about that. But then he shrugged and did as commanded.

Tate slammed the door shut and locked it. He picked up his gun, as Pacifica started to stand up. He opened it, and revealed to her the empty magazine with a grin.

Then he grabbed her hair. He dragged her, whimpering and clawing, across the floor. "I was going to go easy on you, Blondie…" He stated as he threw her against the wall, and pulled the rope in his hands taught.

"…but you had to make this difficult." He asserted as he tasted his own blood on his tongue.

 **[0]**

Ford drove, while Robbie told him the story.

Apparently, he had found out about "Darlene's business" through a piece of paper which had been left by the last tenant of his old apartment. Robbie described his first conversation with her after Ford demanded more details, driving in a calm, but illegal fashion that contrasted strongly with Stan's expert skills behind the wheel.

"I came into her shop…she guessed that I was looking for something to replace my arm. I said yes…I said that I needed my strength…" Robbie paused, finding it difficult to speak about his own folly. The trees they passed were pitch black, and his mind was burned out on more than one level. "So, she laughed and asked if I had any skills. I told her I had performed a little magic, and she asked if I could make her a tribute."

"You said 'yes', because you're an idiot and thought you could weasel your way out of the deal," Ford stated, rather than asked, his eyes not moving from the road. His round spectacles glowed in the night lamps that they passed.

Robbie nodded, not arguing with the insult. After Ford remained silent, he jumped back to his description. "So…she brought me into the back room, and then opened a secret room. From there, was a little staircase into her basement. It smelled terrible…I…I didn't want to go down there…"

"Why did you then?" Ford interrupted his scowl twitching.

Robbie spoke up this time. "I had to! I made a promise…to my little sister…to stop the demons from taking over. I needed my arm!"

Ford smiled, something which Robbie had been unsure he could do. He hadn't asked him yet, who he was, but Robbie could connect the dots and conclude from Ford's resemblance to Stan that he was a relative of the twins.

"So, you're little sis is a big demon hunting fan?" Ford asked as he adjusted his posture.

Robbie shook his head. "She…she came to me while I was on the verge of…dying."

"Oh? Did she have a halo and a trumpet?" Ford asked with another gravelly chuckle.

"It's not funny!" Robbie shouted, all his aches and pains suddenly forgotten. "She was just a little kid when she…she…it's not a joke!" He claimed, his voice cracking as he tried to discourage Ford's laughter. Older man sounded just like Stan when he chuckled, except his voice was much more hollow.

"Relax, Junior," Ford suggested as he turned a corner onto a moonlit country road. "I'm sure that you did see your sister. Just tell me what she gave you and what the deal was."

Robbie looked towards his shoes. "I followed her down…Everything was covered in cobwebs…and…and there were all these weird mushrooms growing down there. She lit a match and brought me to this wall. It was made of amber, with all these bugs trapped in it. She broke off a piece and then arranged this little circle in the dust. We shook hands, and I promised that I would make her a tribute by the end of the month. I…I did not realize how long it would take to figure out what a tribute was and how to make one."

Ford nodded. "You were in over your head. And she told you to bring the tribute to the old timber factory, correct?"

"Yes," Robbie confirmed with a glance at the abandoned houses which they were passing. "Can't we just give her what she wants?"

Ford shook his head. "She would become nearly invincible with a tribute like the one that she wanted. It's not an option."

Robbie wanted to ask how Ford knew all of this, but one look at the old man's eyes convinced him otherwise. Whatever Ford had seen, it gave him the look of a veteran, and Robbie wasn't sure he would be able to deal with whatever horror stories Ford could tell (if he made him share).

Robbie had noticed that he had six fingers on each hand, despite the man's pitch black gloves. And he had noticed that Ford's coat was full of bizarre trinkets.

He had asked about the technology, and Ford had stated that the government organization which had tried to kidnap Dipper, had been unknowingly storing many of his inventions for years. Now, Robbie wasn't sure what the cylinder which Ford held did, but he doubted it wasn't a weapon. And just being in the man's presence was akin to a meeting of Stan's stoic strength, and Dipper's flaring brilliance. Except, Ford was so cold, that he had neither Dipper's good-naturedness or Stan's strength of spirit.

Ford pulled up in front of the Williams & Williams Lumber Co. factory. It was three floors tall, with all the windows bashed in, and much of the equipment strewn about. The yellow painted metal of the crane which hung over the building like was chipped on the edges, and vines had used the crane as a passage to greater things.

Ford slid the keys into Robbie's pants pocket. Robbie was surprised by the gesture, but before he could speak, Ford removed his little metal rod and spoke. "Alright. You stick to me until we spot her. I'll distract her, you free your girlfriend, and the two of you need to run back to this car and get out of here."

Robbie was about to protest when he recognized the look in the old man's eyes. It was the same look which Dipper had worn when he ordered Robbie to help him with Stan's possession. It was the same look which Mabel had worn when she insisted that he play checkers with her in the hospital, rather than sulk.

It was the same look which Wendy had given him when she approached him in the graveyard that afternoon so long ago.

"Alright." He conceded. Ford slid out of the car and slinked up to the factory. Robbie slammed the sedan door close and sprinted after the old man, everything hurting.

The chain on the factory doors was cut, and together, they dragged the left side great green, metal door backward enough to create a decent doorway. The light which poured into the factory revealed deteriorated machines. The smell of mildew and rot struck them both like thunder and they both paused. Robbie took the first (painful) step inside, and Ford brushed past him as he jerked on his flashlight and illuminated the slime covered staircase which lay at the end of the long front room.

 **[0]**

"There," Tate stated as he finished tying Pacifica's ankles to the legs of the chair. The gun in his hand was tilted up toward her breasts, and Tate was still nursing his wounded nostrils. He used her knee to help himself up and spoke and he brushed his hand against his thigh. "Tight as a…well, why curse in front of an impressionable youth such as yourself?" He asked with a sneer.

She didn't respond. He hadn't gagged her, in hopes that he might get more out of her. If she acted brattier he'd be able to destroy her with a clear conscience.

"Fine. I guess that's why I get for being a gentleman…" He stated, pressing the barrel of his gun against her temple.

"You can't kill me." She responded in a quiet voice. "My mom would have your head."

Tate snarled. "She told me to _break you in…_ like a fucking dog! She told me to do whatever it took to make sure you stopped being a human and was her little angel. Do you really think she's gonna shed any tears if I tie you to a cinder block and throw it in the lake? After all the trouble, you've caused…"

Pacifica raised her face. "Do you think that anyone is going to cry when you die?" She responded as if they were discussing this over coffee.

"Stop trying to get in my head, Blondie. Before your girlfriend offed him, I played mind games with your daddy. I promise you…if you don't quit it, then what comes next will not be a pleasant experience for you or me."

"I." She replied, unfazed.

" _What_?" He spat as he glanced back at her.

"You and I, not you or me." She corrected. "You said it wrong."

Tate stared at her for a long time and then he dropped his gun. "You really don't think I'm a threat to you…do you?" Pacifica remained silent as he took a step closer to her. "You know…I was wrong. I thought you were nicer than your old lady…I thought you were actually a bearable person…but you're just another stuck up cunt who thinks that the world belongs to her."

He cracked his knuckles while she chose silence. "But don't worry your highness…I've got a great show for you tonight. And by the end of it…you are going to learn something." He stated with a lecherous grin.

He removed the walky-talky from his belt and told Austin to start up the screen.

Then he dragged one of the sofas across the wood and jerked it to a halt next to Pacifica's chair. He flopped down and pressed the button on the right-hand side of the sofa. Lights flickered on, inside the stairway tunnel. Then a woman walked out into the room which the screen had been displaying all this time. She had dirty blonde hair and a reddish complexion. She cracked her knuckles for the camera and smirked as she stretched and hopped up and down a couple times. Tate's seat reclined, while Pacifica tried to figure out what he was about to show her.

The woman made an angry face for the camera. Then she removed her bathrobe, showing off her six-pack and disturbingly muscular arms. She was dressed in only a stark blue bikini and Pacifica could see now that she wore a buzz-cut. From the opposite side of the room, walked in Brenda. She was still ashen and shaking. But she was dressed in a similar robe and her hair had been cut too. She removed her robe, revealing her light purple bikini.

Tate removed a little microphone from his pocket. He hovered the device in front of his mouth and spat into it as the reverb made Pacifica wince.

 _"HELLO LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! …and our patrons."_

He must have been hooked up to a house-wide system, because his laughter echoed from throughout the house, and Tate's smile twitched. Pacifica could see from the look in his small, black eyes, that he hated entertaining these people.

 _Why did he do it then?_ She wondered. Then she remembered her own actions, under duress from her father and mother. And then the way she had stalked Mabel…then she noticed that his fingers were trembling.

 _"Tonight, our star warriors…Brenda Gallagher and Andria Rehman will not just be fighting for the cash prize of $25,000 dollars…"_ He paused and forced himself to speak through the drought in his voice. _"…they will be fighting for Brenda's old girlfriend!"_

A cheer came from across the house, and the screen changed. It displayed Candy, curled up in a room, begging to be let out in Korean. Her eyes were stained with tear streaks, and she looked dangerously underfed.

When the screen returned to the crawlspace, Andria was smiling and mocking Brenda. Brenda, on the other hand, was busy readying her stance. She must have agreed to this because she didn't look the least bit shocked by the turn of events. Just focused not to lose.

Pacifica turned to look at Tate with this realization. "You can't…what are you…"

Tate's smile grew with the knowledge that he had shocked her into incoherence. He continued after giving her a wink. _"That's right folks,"_ He echoed. _"Whoever wins will get to have the retard as a sex slave. So, without further ado…let's get our warriors pumped up, shall we?"_

A cheer.

 _"I'm sorry…I can't hear you!"_ Tate called like a children's show host.

An even greater cheer rocked the mansion, and Pacifica wondered with growing horror just how many people were in the house, engaging in and soliciting illegal activities.

 _"Well…then…"_ Tate muttered as two muscular men brought Brenda and Andria some strange needles. Pacifica watched with bulged eyes as both were injected, Andria wincing in greater pain.

 _How many times had Brenda done this?_

 _"Let's get this party started!"_ Tate screamed into the microphone. The two men disappeared and the doors were locked close from the outside.

They would be fighting in a concrete crawlspace, drugged up, with presumably no rules. Guessing her question, Tate spoke up as Brenda launched the first attack.

"She's been my star for quite a while. Hey! Maybe after you're done being used by your mother to get to Stanford's niece, you could come here and get a job beating the shit out of people." He commented sly, relishing her every reaction to the brutal fight on the screen. "…you beat me pretty well…" He admitted, before turning his attention back to the screen.

Brenda was losing as expected.

 **[0]**

"Lee…am I a bad person?"

Stan glanced over at his passenger. McGucket had been silent this entire time, watching the painted white lines which passed beside their tires.

Stan adjusted himself before answering. "I don't believe that people are good and bad."

McGucket raised his vision from the road and turned an unimpressed look toward Stan. Stan sighed, and elaborated as they pulled onto the dirt road which would take them to the lake.

"The people who decide who is good and who is bad…the hardest decision that they ever have to make is which college to go to. 'Which of these cars to buy? Should I go into a nursing room when I retire?' That kind of thing. They never face the kinds of things that you and me do." Stan said, hoping that they would not have to dwell on this subject.

McGucket placed his head in his hands. "But…it isn't as if we didn't do things…to make this the reality of the situation."

Stan tensed up. He took a deep breath and slowed the car. Fiddleford had always believed in God and consequences to actions. His unwavering belief in those concepts, in fact, had frustrated Stan on many occasions.

How could a person deal with demons, and still believe that there was still some benevolent force which drove their entire universe?

"Fids, this isn't your fault. Tate's the one who did this, not you." Stan stated as he gripped the wheel tighter than ever. He had only seen Tate a couple times, and neither time had been very enjoyable. The first had been at the grocery store, Tate had been arguing with Priscilla about packaging.

He had felt particularly uncomfortable, listening to the two of them bitch at one another.

The other time had been when he took Dipper and Mabel down by the lake when they were only five years old. Tate had been out on a boat, fishing. But he had glanced over at them, and later, had attempted to approach Stan. Stan had given him one of his trademark "back off" looks, and after Tate glanced at Dipper and Mabel (who had been pretending to be pirates and fighting with sticks), he had turned away.

 _He should have known better, from that time, then to try and pull this_ shit, Stan thought as they pulled up to the gate which locked off the park. As far as Stan knew, Fiddleford's son was neck deep in Priscilla's shit, and as such, was just another idiot between him and his family.

The gate was opened by a couple soldiers, and Stan recognized Lockhart's men crawling all over the parking lot. Several armored cars had been stopped in the parking lot, and a couple men in yellow toxin resistant jumpsuits were holding devices which resembled satellite dishes and pointing them towards the ground.

Stan glanced one last time at McGucket as they were guided by a soldier as to where they should park. "Relax, Fids. Everything is going to be fine."

McGucket shook his head but remained wordless as they climbed out of the sedan. Lockhart was wearing a bullet proof jacket and standing in the middle of the parking lot.

"What's the plan?" Stan asked as he approached. "I thought you guys would get here _after_ we got Dipper and Mabel out of the mansion."

Lockhart shrugged. "You took a little too long. Here, put these on." He offered a couple tires and gestured as to where they should hide them when both old men accepted the equipment. Then, Lockhart removed a walkie-talkie from his belt and held it to his mouth. "We are all for go for infiltration."

Stan spoke as Lockhart returned the walkie talkie to his belt. "They aren't going to welcome us inside…in fact, I'm pretty sure that they are going to try to kill us."

Lockhart nodded. "We are already entering boats into the lake and we have a helicopter coming in from above. In half an hour, they will be surrounded. What we want for you two to do, is to get in there, and get your niece and nephew out before it turns into a shootout. We don't want any hostages in there when we storm the place."

McGucket glanced around at the armed forces which moved past them and spoke with shock. "Where do you get all these people with such short notice?"

Lockhart ignored him. "Now, are you two going to co-operate, because I don't want two dead teens on my hands, but I am running on a limited schedule and we have a small amount of time before they realize that they are surrounded."

Stan wanted to ask how Lockhart knew the mansion was full of people breaking the law, but decided that the question wasn't relevant and that the man worked for such a faceless organization that he could have known all along what Priscilla and Tate were up to.

"Okay, fine." Stan agreed without glancing at his companion.

Lockhart jerked thumb in the direction of a solitary rowboat, and pulled out his walkie-talkie as he marched over to a camouflage speed boat parked against the shady part of the beach. Stan moved to the row boat which Lockhart had gestured toward. McGucket dragged his feet, paused to look at the sky, and then followed with a mournful expression.

 **[0]**

Climbing up the cliff of the island had been easy. Manda didn't mind her fingers bleeding or the soles of her feet getting cut on the stone which jutted out. Getting past Tate's guards had not been easy.

But then Manda had not escaped a government facility, marched through the woods, tricked a fey into giving her the mushrooms which the Great Maw had instructed her to collect, and then returned to the site of her initiation into insanity, to fail against a couple idiots. They had gone down with some gentle blows with a rock and Manda had collected their guns.

Manda marched up to the room which Gn'aak instructed her to enter, and eased the door open a sliver. Inside, a sickly Korean girl was lying against the wall, covering her face and sobbing. She was wearing a dirty hospital gown.

Manda tossed the door open and marched inside. The girl got up. She flinched and tried to protect herself by raising her hands in front of her face. Manda could tell what the girl said when she babbled in Korean. Her mind had been opened to the infinities of the universe; she could understand any language.

She just chose to ignore her. With one hand, she grabbed Candy's mane of jet black hair and with the other hand, she brought the mushrooms which she had ground into a fine paste, to Candy's forehead. Across the veins which were revealed from pain.

Smear-smear, and toss her aside. Manda smiled. Throwing wrenches in B'yl's works was vital to stopping the monster The Great Maw had warned her of. And fun as hell.

She turned away and walked out of the room as Candy rolled on the floor and foamed at the mouth.

 **[0]**

The inside of the factory was frigid compared to the rest of it, and Robbie held the flashlight while Ford moved behind him and aimed his weapon at anything with moved. There were cobwebs everywhere, and gravel crunched beneath their shoes. When Robbie tried to ask Ford what Darlene really was, the old man pressed a finger to his mouth.

They were nearing the stairs which led to the second floor when Robbie heard whimpering.

"Tambry…" He hissed, as he raised his eyes.

Again, Ford gestured for him to be quiet, took the flashlight. The old man took the lead, and Robbie attempted to step as delicately as Ford was. There was a luminous slime across the stair railing, with a color resembling mint gum. When Robbie noted that Ford wasn't touching the sides, he grew tense and brought his hands in front of his body. Along with Tambry's whimpering, came a crunching sound that made Robbie's knees lose some of their vigor.

 _Crunch-crunch_. _Skitter_.

Ford glanced at Robbie and then clicked off the flashlight, before handing it to him. In the light of the glowing ooze, Ford's stoic expression and long face brought the image of a zombie to mind.

Robbie took the device and watched as Ford hunkered down as he passed the final step. Robbie mirrored his actions and realized that there was a trail of the ooze. It led to a dark hallway on the other side of the maze of pathways. Webbing wrapped around the beams which supported the cracked concrete ceiling and broken glass was scattered across the metal grating floor which extended over what would have been the factory showroom floor.

The ramps looked blood colored in the light of the ooze, and Robbie could hear them cracking beneath him. Lumps of messy gossamer hung above in clumps, each the size of a full garbage can. Ford surveyed the area while Robbie called out for Tambry, and Robbie figured that he must have had a light sensitive vision, because Robbie had to walk the twenty foot lengthways of each intersecting walkway, to be sure his girlfriend did not lie at the end of one of them.

then pointed to the balcony which looked over the factory floor. There was a cracked window which showed the balcony and the little path which extended clockwise to the other side of the factory.

There, Tambry hung from the ceiling. She was constricted by chains, tied to an anchor sized chain which must have been used for lifting.

Robbie stepped toward the balcony and Ford grabbed him by the collar. The old man was a foot taller than him and spoke in a paralyzing hiss as he leaned close to Robbie's ear. "Why do you think she is in the one place where we can see her?"

As if to answer Ford's rhetorical question there was another _crunch-crunch, skitter._ Then a shadow moved on the walkway across from theirs, between them and Tambry. Sweat trickled down the back of Robbie's neck and dribbled between his shoulder blades as Darlene's plastic doll face came into view, illuminated by a particularly large wad of ooze.

"Well, hey there Robbie…" She greeted as there was further skittering and her head began to twitch. "…I see that you brought company." Her smile disappeared, and her accent became less prevalent.

Ford raised his weapon and extended it in front of his face. He spoke before Robbie could and pressed something on the rod. "I'll give you one chance to hand over the girl. You can have your necklace back, but you are not getting your tribute."

Darlene's smile returned. She moved closer and Robbie heard a dozen, gigantic, hairy legs dragging across twisted metal. His left arm ached and his throat dried up as he recalled the giant, metal ant which the shape-shifter had used to bite off his arm.

Darlene kept on skittering toward them, and only stopped when Ford pressed a button on his rod and it glowed red in two places through a circular bulb. Her smile widened.

"I knew that this idiot was the way to you." She stated, her eyes now black and glinting.

"Why am I not surprised?" Ford responded, taking a step back and pressing another button. The rod began to hum and glowed brighter than ever.

Darlene began to crack, across her body. "I've fed on a lot of guys…but you…" Cracks appeared on her face, on her arms, and across her chest. Her voice dropped a couple octaves, growing deep and echoing. _"…you're a legend around here. You are bound to be delicious."_

Darlene dived forward, leaping twenty feet through the air and pouncing. As she opened her mouth to hiss, Robbie could swear he saw something wriggling in the back of her throat. And when Ford yelled "NOW!", pulled the trigger, and sent a flash of light out of his weapon, for a moment, Robbie saw dozens of things crawling across Darlene.

Then he was sprinting towards Tambry, with too much adrenaline in his system to think about what he had just seen.

An inhuman screech came when the bright pulse of aura energy met with Darlene, and Robbie could hear Ford stumbling. He bent in front of Tambry and began untangling the chains that constricted her body. She was unconscious, and her shirt had been removed and used as a gag, revealing her now dirty undershirt.

Robbie could see, even in the darkness, the bruises and scratches which Darlene had inflicted on her. His hands worked with twice the speed when he heard Darlene charging along one of the walkways, and Ford groaning in pain.

Tambry fell forward, into his arms, and Robbie held her upward as he dragged her along the walkway. He stared at her split lip and the bruise beneath her right eye as he returned to the staircase. There were several flashes of light as Ford tried to do Darlene in, but Robbie didn't look up from his girlfriend's face.

He knew she would never forgive him. But he was more than anything else, thankful that she was alive.

A blast of energy ricocheted off a beam and struck one of the clusters of gossamer which hung above. The bag swung and then fell, right at Robbie's feet. The webbing burnt, producing a foul smell and making Robbie gag. Tambry stirred as Robbie tried to gauge if he could leap over the fire, carrying her bridal style.

Then the familiar smell of death reached him. Within the burning cocoon, was a skeleton that grinned up at him with a broken line of teeth.

"Robbie? What's going on?" Tambry murmured sleepily, awoken by his intake of breath.

"Nothing…you're fine." Robbie lied, as he took a running start, and bound over the burning corpse and the webbing which constrained it.

He carried her down the first flight of stairs, promising that she would be fine, even as she grew more aware of her surroundings and as her memory returned.

Ford cried out and his weapon rattled against the floor and rolled. Robbie glanced up. _Rolled._

Frozen stiff, he could hear the cylinder roll beneath the railing and fall against the beam. He could hear it smack against something in the darkness of the downstairs.

 **[0]**

Brenda was not doing well. She was bruised in both eyes and out of breath. She had started with a good offense, but Andria had broken it after a minute and returned with some devastating blows. Pacifica had never realized just how safe boxing and wrestling were until now.

This was because Brenda's and Andria's fight was the total opposite of those two sports. With no limitations, the fight was just a rain of viciousness. Blow after blow, they bruised and bloodied themselves, to cringe-inducing effect. Pacifica had sustained so much abuse and seen so many infernal things, that it was difficult for her to feel nauseous. But just looking at Brenda was painful.

The brunette had given a few good punches, but now she was reduced to blocking her face as blood poured from her nose and mouth, and dodging Andria's savage kicks. While Andria had a bloody lip and a black eye, Brenda had one hand on her ribs and her exposed legs were spotted with bruises.

Tate watched with an agitated expression and smirked when a good jab got in. He laughed when Brenda finally fell to the ground and stopped moving.

Pacifica turned her face away from the screen as Andria began kicking and beating Brenda's defenseless body. And unfortunately, Tate realized this.

"What's the matter, princess? Don't you want to see how the world works?" He asked, as he stood and grabbed her chin. "People will pay, big money, to watch people beat the shit out of each other. It has always been that way, because deep down, everyone is that way. Even your pretty girlfriend…all she wants to do is _indulge_ when it comes down to it. That's why this place was rebuilt so fast, that's why everyone pretends that it doesn't exist."

Pacifica held her tongue and his rage overboiled.

"Speak! FUCKING SPEAK! STOP PRETENDING THAT I'M BENEATH YOU!" He screamed as he gripped her hair, which was by now messy with sweat and blood.

She spoke in an even tone, despite the pain which he was inflicting, and the fact that she could feel his hot breath across her body. "I'll do anything you want…if you make this end."

He paused, and his breathing grew shallow.

Pacifica took a deep breath, before continuing. _This is what Mabel would do. anything to prevent someone else's pain._ "I will do anything you want…I will agree to whatever you want…I'll…allow you to do whatever you want to me…" She turned her eyes to the carpet, and her breathing hitched at the mental images she knew that were flowing through both of their brains. "…if you make this _stop_." She finished as she raised her face and gave him a scowl to rival her mother's.

Tate swallowed dryly, and reached to his belt, to his phone.

There was a laugh, from the match, and Pacifica's eyes bulged. Tate grasped her reaction immediately and turned toward the screen.

There, between Brenda and Andria stood Candy. She was dressed the same, but all vulnerability in her eyes was lost. Her forehead was covered in a light grayish purple paste and her eyes were so intense that they reminded Pacifica only of the look which had been in Dipper's eyes back at The Shack. _Unnatural._

Andria tried to push Candy aside, and Candy ducked, punched Andria in the stomach, and swept her feet. Then, she picked up Brenda and allowed the taller girl to lean on her as she moved off the screen. Pacifica could see the collapsed guard in the corner of the screen, lying against the hall.

Tate received a call and the sound of his phone ringing made shook them both out of their surprise.

"What?" He snapped to whoever was on the other line. His anger fell, again, and then his face grew twice as red. "Shit! Okay, I'll be down in a moment."

He flipped his phone closed and bent to tighten Pacifica's ropes. "Don't get any ideas while I'm gone, princess. I've got too much shit to handle right now."

Pacifica watched him go, and only started struggling when she heard him descending the staircase. As it turned out, she didn't have to do so for very long.

The door opened, and the thug stationed outside, lay unconscious at Candy's feet. She strode inside, and Brenda followed her, limping with a makeshift splint and with dried blood across her neck.

Candy knelt in front of Pacifica and her fingers moved in a blur as she untied her.

"What…umm…what happened?" Pacifica asked, as she took Candy's hand and was helped to her feet.

Brenda remained silent. Candy pointed to the paste which had begun to fade against her forehead and then gestured for them to leave.

Pacifica nodded and glanced at Brenda as they snuck out of the top floor and down the staircase. "Is she alright?" Pacifica asked as Brenda limped along, one hand on the wall.

Brenda shook her head but didn't say a word, and Pacifica got the feeling that she feared Candy. Which, considering what Pacifica had seen Candy do, and how many people she had defeated to get to Brenda and to get up here, was not particularly outlandish.

They were almost to the bottom of the stairs when a half-naked girl slipped out of one of the rooms that they passed. She saw them, stopped, stuttered, and all three were bounding down the stairs when she screamed, with Brenda leaning on Candy for support now.

Pacifica glanced back at them as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and knew, that they would not make it down before someone came. Still, she felt guilty for considering leaving them behind. There was patient adoration in Candy's eyes as she assisted Brenda down each step, and for once since seeing the girl defeat Andria in seconds, she looked less like a robot.

 _But Mabel. Mabel's back at The Shack, all alone with…Dipper._

A man was coming from behind Pacifica, yelling at them to stop. She could run past him if she wanted.

Pacifica stuck out her leg and watched the man fall forward. Then she ran up the stairs and put Brenda's other arm over her shoulder. Together, she and Candy carried Brenda down the hall. They came to a halt when they passed over a makeshift dining hall and heard Stan's voice.

 **[0]**

"I had one unspoken agreement with you, Pines," Tate stated as he descended the stairs into the dining hall. Three or four men, all had their guns on Stan's and McGucket's necks, and several patrons gazed on from behind the pillars which circled the area.

"I leave you to your business, and you leave me to mine!" Tate yelled as looked Stan in the eye and came within arms distance of him. "I don't bother you and you don't bother me. And coming into my house, unannounced, and bringing _that_ bastard-" Tate pointed at his father without looking at him. "-definitely counts as _bothering me!_ "

Stan smirked. "Your house...I thought this dump was the 'Norwood' lakehouse."

Tate fumed, but Stan didn't wait for his rebuttal. "You're the one who kidnapped my niece and nephew, and you're the one who burnt my house down."

Tate lowered his weapon. "What?"

"Hand them over Tate," Fiddleford said, with the barrel of a rifle pressed against the back of his head. "Hand them over and nobody will get hurt."

Tate ignored him. "I didn't touch your brats, Pines! And I didn't do anything to your house!"

Stan's expression changed. He had been waiting for a lie, but when he detected none, the wrinkles in his face darkened.

Tate raised his voice and his gun as he continued. "And you aren't getting Gallagher or Priscilla's brat, they belong to me now. So, you can either leave, _leave right now_ , and take your fag with you," Fiddleford didn't even flinch. "Or would you like to be sleeping at the bottom of the lake, tonight. Understand?"

A man ran up to Tate as Stan and Fiddleford exchanged expressions. Tate was out of breath and trying to keep his cool in front of his men, but when the man whispered in Tate's ear that he had seen soldiers on the beach, Tate exploded.

"WHAT? You saw, what!?" Tate asked as he gripped the shorter man's collar. "Why the fuck didn't you say something earlier?!" He screamed as some of the patrons started asking questions. Questions about whether their fun was going to be ruined.

Bruce turned to Tate. "Boss, are we going to shoot these guys or-"

The guy with his rifle against the back of McGucket's neck looked up from and pointed. "BOSS! It's Gallagher and the others!"

Tate had already sent several men to "take care of" Brenda and Candy, and it only occurred to him now that word had not returned from them. He raised his head, and sure as hell, there stood Brenda, Candy, and Pacifica.

Stan slammed his elbow into the man with the rifle pointed at them and grabbed his gun. Someone fired. The dining hall erupted in blows, and shots. Screams, cursing, more firing. The lights went out (his father had been standing by that light switch, with the same blank face as always), and Tate turned his back on his men. He shoved his way through the crowd of patrons attempting to escape and of his men, trying to tackle Stan to the ground.

But he commanded no presence in the dark. He was knocked over, struck his temple on the edge of a table. As he lay on the ground, struggling to stay conscious, someone tripped over him and screamed as they were trampled. Tate pulled himself beneath the table and when the panic had subsided enough that there wasn't a flow of feet, he rolled out and sprinted toward the staircase, still clutching his head.

He was not losing to a couple punks and his dad's moron. Not today. Not ever.

 **[0]**

Darlene looked up from where she had Ford pinned to the ground, with one foot, and grinned at Robbie. A spider crawled out of her black mouth, over her many, wriggling teeth. She was wearing her mask again, but it was coming away in strips at this point. Robbie could see the movement beneath it. She lurched towards the stairs, moving in a revoltingly abnormal manner.

 _"What's the big idea, Robbie? Don't you want to stay for the fun?"_ Darlene called as she speed-walked toward him, her eyes dripping black ooze.

Robbie dropped Tambry to her feet and instructed to her to run as his hand lingered on the small of her back. She wanted to protest, but he pushed her, and she half stumbled, half ran down the stairs. Robbie stared dead ahead at his opponent, her head peeking out from the wall. She looked him up and down, and Robbie didn't wait to see her lick her lips. He dove down the stairs, moving as quickly as he could with his injuries.

Tambry wasn't in sight, although the factory floor was so dark that Robbie could have tripped over her before he saw her. The doors were still open, and the night air which flushed in was enough to speed up Robbie's movements. He could hear Darlene behind him, but he dared not look back. If he did, he was sure that the last thing he'd ever see was her vomiting web over his body.

He was inches from the door when it slammed closed. Darlene's high pitch laugh filled the factory, and something above Robbie crawled out of view. As Robbie struggled to drag the door open, her cackling only grew in pitch.

 _"What's the matter, Robbie?"_ She taunted as he put all his strength into opening the door.

To no avail. His hands became stuck in the thick webbing which constrained the handles, and he stumbled away from the door, for fear of becoming permanently entwined.

Her fist brushed his side as Darlene leaped through the air, and Robbie fell. He collided with a broken-down machine and dropped to the floor. All the wounds Bill had inflicted re-opened and blood dribbled down his sweaty form as he dragged himself toward one of the broken windows, his eyes wide.

 _"Run, run, it's the gingerbread man…"_ Darlene swiped him again. This time she made powerful contact, and he flew like a rag doll, into the metal wall beside the window.

With a bleeding hand, Robbie reached for the glass, his hand shaking. If he could just reach it…

The pain was too much. And he was too tired of so much pain, so much piercing across his body. Making every thought difficult, making every movement a struggle. Robbie was so, so tired.

 _I'm sorry, Cathy_. He thought with all the tension leaving his body.

Darlene pressed her hand against his shoulder, and Robbie could feel the creatures moving beneath her palm. She spoke in a voice deeper than anything he had ever heard. _"In return for you delivering that fine blooded specimen upstairs, I'm going to kill you quickly instead of digesting you slowly like him."_ She cackled while licking the lips of her mask, green ooze dribbling out and hissing against the ground between Robbie's legs.

ZASSSSH!

A streak of blue. Electricity flowed through Darlene. She arched her back, and in the light of the electricity, Robbie could see Ford, limping towards them, pressing something on his wrist that released the electricity. Ford's other hand was on his side and the man's age shown through as he gritted his teeth and pressed the button until his thumb was white.

The flow of electricity started to wane, and Darlene teetered for a moment, then she turned away from Robbie and snarled at Ford.

 _"You should have known better than to come here, Pines…"_ She whispered as she raised a leg and swung it at Ford. He ducked to the side, and Darlene struck the doors. They creaked and splayed slightly. Grunting in rage, Darlene punched at Ford again and this time made contact. He whipped backward and landed in a crash on the sandy floor.

 _"…I've been watching you come in and out of your little shop for thirty years…and you've never looked more delicious...helpless and out of date."_ She stated.

Robbie forced himself to stand. He forced himself to stumble into the center of the factory floor. And when he gripped a fallen brick, he forced himself to hurl it at Darlene.

It smacked against the back of her head, and it struck the floor with a dull echo. Darlene's head turned a full 180 as she glared at him, and her hands worked to pick up Ford, shake him, and then tear off his coat. She tossed him back to the floor of the factory and turned her entire body to fit the angle of her head as she approached him.

The amber necklace around Robbie began to burn, and Robbie could feel the scorpion inside beginning to wriggle free. The amber was melting against his shirt, and its legs drug into his shirt.

 _"Pathetic,"_ Darlene stated with a disappointed expression as she marched toward him.

Tambry's car slammed into the doors, and, now damaged and already unsafe, they collapsed. Darlene darted out of their shadow, and Tambry slammed into her at full speed, while the fake-woman was still in mid-air. Darlene went clung to the car and was driven straight into the broadside of a beam.

Her body popped. All the cracks came loose, and a mixture of glowing slime, black blood, and thousands of spiders spilled loose.

Tambry slid out of her car and ran over to Robbie as he wrestled on the ground. The amber was melting twice as fast now and he could feel its prisoner attempting to burrow her way through his chest.

Tambry snapped the necklace off him and tossed it against the wall. Robbie screamed as his arm began to rot and wither. He writhed on the ground, twitching like a bug and foaming at the mouth as the magic began to turn against his body. Tambry tried to calm him down, her voice cracking and her hands raised. She tried to understand what was wrong.

But Robbie couldn't do more than lie in the sand, whimpering.

Ford shuffled up to them, and gently pushed Tambry to the side. He bent and removed a small object from his pantleg. He yanked up Robbie's sleeve, revealing the untouched portion of his arm where the flesh was no going gray.

And then he stabbed Robbie's arm with it.

Robbie sputtered, choked, and coughed. And then the part of his arm which Darlene had re-crafted, was gone.

Ford sat down, leaning against one of the machines and panting. He glanced at Tambry and turned his eyes to Robbie. "You picked a good one." He stated, still out of breath and nursing his bruised rib.

Robbie didn't disagree. He just hugged Tambry and apologized until words were meaningless. She didn't say a word, and they knelt there in the darkness.

"Promise me that this is the last time?" Tambry finally asked after Ford moved outside to get some fresh air.

"Promise." Robbie returned without hesitation.

 **[0]**

When the lights turned back on, patrons and thugs lay about, but Stan Leland Pines and Fiddleford McGucket were long gone. They had slipped out in the first confusion and taken the stairs on the opposite side of the dining hall from the one that Tate had taken.

It had not been difficult, catching up with Pacifica, Candy, and Brenda, as they were all crouched at the end of a hall full of portraits and windows, resting for Brenda's sake.

"Where's Mabel and Dipper?" Stan asked as they caught up with them three, him still holding the rifle that he'd stolen.

He was caught off guard by Candy's look as she glanced up at him. It was hard and held the kind of intelligence he'd only ever seen in his brother's eyes.

Pacifica shook her head as she tried to get Brenda upright. Stan noticed how sweaty she looked as she spoke, and wondered what Tate had put her through. "They…they aren't here. Mabel left while we were at The Shack…she left to do something. Tate didn't take Dipper with him."

Stan was at a loss for words, when came screams of "STOP!" and "SURRENDER!"

Stan turned, and saw the five or six men at the other end of the hall, armed to the teeth. He grabbed Pacifica and McGucket by the back of their necks and pulled them around the corner as the gunfire broke loose. Brenda fell back to the floor, and Candy crouched beside her, staring into space and murmuring to herself.

"We're cornered…" McGucket stated, absently, after a peek around the corner. Stan fired off a warning shot and observed the door in the corner of his eye. If he could close it, it might buy them a couple seconds. But they could never outrun the horde of men, not with Brenda injured like she was.

He stood up, unbelieving that he was about to so this, for these three, two of which he had threatened, and other of which, had at some point allied herself with Tate.

"Okay, you three start running…right now, we'll hold them off." He stated as he gave another warning shot. There couldn't have been more than a couple more bullets in the gun.

Pacifica looked ready to protest, but then the windows of the hall broke. At that moment, tear gas flooded the house from every window and balcony. And SWATT teams came crashing in, their guns blazing.

"What the hell is that?" Pacifica asked as Stan picked up Brenda, and together they all bolted down the hall.

"The cavalry," Stan replied, the picture of Lockhart's smug face brought to mind. "Now…" He lowered his eyes to Brenda. "…which is the fastest way out, excluding the front door?" He asked as light-headedness infected his sense of direction. He had only been in the last iteration of the lake house before Gideon had burnt it down. This one had an entirely different layout and with the fire of gunshots around every corner, resembled a labyrinth.

"Beneath the house…" She replied. "There's a…a grotto…beneath the house. It's full of boats."

Stan nodded and came to a halt in what looked like part of a brothel. The room had been vacated when the shooting started and objects for the ingestion of hallucinogenics, as well as various articles of clothing (most silk and patterned). Stan had to lean against one of the room's pillars to get his bearings. He had to lean against one of the room's pillars to get his bearings.

Brenda raised her head and pointed toward a door in the corner of the room. "That way." She said, barely moving her lips.

Together, they raced down the stone steps on the other side of the door, down to where the walls turned from wood to carved stone. As they descended, Stan could hear something beneath his feet pulsing. He could feel something whispering in his ear, encouraging his aging heart to pop so that he and Brenda spilled across the stone steps.

"Stan," McGucket called. His voice sounded distant, against the drum of Stan's heart, the echo of their many footsteps slapping off the mossy steps, and when compared to the whisper that hissed in his ear.

"Calm." He instructed, his own breathing labored.

Stan nodded and regained his grip on where he was going and why. Mabel and Dipper. Waiting for him. They needed him.

They burst into the grotto, and sure enough, one boat remained. It sat, and bounced against the ripple of waves. It was red and white and looked brand new.

Stan set Brenda down, and she leaned on Candy, while he leaped into the front of the motor boat. It would be a tight fit, but it wasn't as if they could make two journeys. He also had never hotwired a boat before but doubted it could be much different from doing so to a car.

"I know how to get it working," Pacifica said in a small voice when he became frustrated at the tangle of red, orange, and blue wires.

She was understandably terrified of him. Stan nodded and slid over, allowing her to get to work. As Candy lay Brenda down in the backseat of the boat, and McGucket climbed in after them two with half lidded eyes.

The motor sputtered to life and McGucket pulled the cord until it was really going. Pacifica shifted aside, still afraid to touch him, as Stan took the controls.

"Stop. Now."

Stan recognized Tate's voice immediately. He grabbed his rifle and aimed it at Tate, only to find that the younger man now had the barrel of his pistol aimed at Fiddleford's forehead.

"Now, Pines," Tate ordered as he turned off the safety.

Fiddleford shook his head, while Brenda sat up and tried to beg with Tate.

"NOW! All of you," Tate ordered. "Hands where I can see them, and out of my boat."

Stan lowered his gun.

McGucket spoke in a low voice. "Tate, you don't want to do this."

"YES! I FUCKING DO! And if you don't shut up, I'll shoot all of you." Tate screamed. "Now, all of you…all of you out of my boat…" They started to move. "Except for blondie. She's coming with me." Tate ordered.

Stan glanced at Pacifica, and then back at Tate. "You're disgusting." He stated as he moved off the boat and onto the shoddy dock.

"Keep moving," Tate replied, his eyes darting between all of them. Pacifica was sitting in the passenger seat, her hands in her lap. She looked like she was struggling not to cry.

Brenda put her hands together, now standing without support. "Please, Tate…"

"Quiet." He ordered, looking a

Candy spoke up as Tate put one foot inside the boat, his gun still pointed at them. "No, you do not."

Stan was surprised by how clear her voice was. Her accent had disappeared.

"What?!" Tate snapped, his whole body shaking.

"You don't want to do this. Someone is in your head, telling you that this is the only way, but you do not have to do this." Candy answered.

Tate twitched and turned the gun directly on her. "Shut up, just…shut the fuck up." He finished stepping into the boat. "Blondie, drive us slowly out and head for the river. I don't want any police following us." He ordered.

Pacifica moved to the controls, while Candy continued, her voice now louder. "You did something terrible next to the lake…you tried to commit suicide I am guessing. And the voice crept in. And now it is telling you that we cannot end this peacefully."

"SAY ONE MORE THING AND I WILL SHOOT YOU IN THE GODDAMN MOUTH!" Tate screamed while Pacifica paused at the controls. "I HAVE KILLED PEOPLE BEFORE, AND I WILL DO IT AGAIN!"

Candy shook her head. "You will never kill another person after tonight."

Tate shot. Brenda screamed and dove in front of Candy. Soldiers burst through the barricaded upstairs door and screamed for everyone to put their hands where they could see them. Tate…dropped his gun.

The whispering in Stan's ears grew louder.

 **[0]**

Pacifica and Candy were brought to the beach, alongside Stan and McGucket. Brenda's body was brought off on a stretcher, and that was the last that Pacifica saw of it. She and Candy were given blankets and followed by two guards as the arrests were made. Assault, attempted murder, possession and marketing of illegal substances, prostitution, attempting to escape custody, as well as a dozen more were charged to both Tate's men and his patrons.

Tate went off in handcuffs, willingly, with a blank look in his eyes. Candy's words rang in Pacifica's mind as she sat on the beach, staring at the fire which Stan had made after it became clear Lockhart would not allow them to leave the scene anytime soon.

 _You will never kill another person after tonight._

She glanced up at Candy and saw that the girl looked as she had a couple hours ago, confused. Afraid. Damaged.

Lockhart had come over a couple minutes ago and apologized as he confirmed that they had been too late to get Brenda to an emergency unit and that she had bled out.

Pacifica remembered that when she had accused Candy of taking photos of her when she had grabbed Candy's arm and started calling her names, the girl had started crying with her first protests.

The shorter girl had yet to shed a single tear, and judging by her sudden change in personality, she might never. She just stared into the fire.

"What did you mean…when you said that Tate would never kill anybody again?" Pacifica finally asked, unable to stand the waiting any longer. If they sat in silence much longer, her mind would return to Mabel, and she would begin to panic (Stan was currently on a call with his "brother", and the two of them were trying to figure out where the twins had gone).

Candy let out a deep exhale. "Did Brenda ever tell you where she was from?" She asked as the reflection of the flame in her eyes danced. She looked immensely old as she said it, and Pacifica shook her head dumbly.

"Connecticut. She was born in a little town…a little town in Connecticut. She lived with her father…she wanted to be famous. She trained with her dad, for boxing. But she never got very far. Then, she met someone, who she loved. That didn't last very long. The girl she loved, died of some terminal illness. So, she ran away. She did odd jobs…and then one night…outside this bar in Wyoming, she gets in a fight. She beat the shit out of these some guys who called her a dyke. Tate is there...some kind of business deal...drugs probably. He sees her defeat all three guys and he offers her a job, doing security for him. She takes it…she does well. Tate gets impressed. He offers her a chance in the ring…she takes it. She was addicted. But it wasn't to the drugs or to all the flashiness. It was the pain. It made her feel better…pushing herself, punishing herself."

Candy swallowed. She picked up a stick, stoked the fire with a few short pokes and then met Pacifica's eyes. "She told me that after I saved her…and she told me that she loved me too."

Candy proved Pacifica wrong. Her eyes looked wet as she said the next part. "Brenda wouldn't have been able to help rescue Mabel and Dipper…she was hemorrhaging internally…and if you would have died if Tate tried to escape with you."

She closed her eyes and Pacifica felt like the wind was knocked out of her, as she realized that Candy had known Brenda would take the bullet for her.

Candy jabbed the fire a little more, and when she blinked, the wetness was gone.

"I couldn't have known…the soldiers would reach us so quickly." She stated, in a cracked voice.

Pacifica, who felt like throwing up as much as she felt like bursting into sobs, stood up, turned away, walked in circles a couple times and then sat down. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted this all to be over.

But it wasn't. Dipper and Mabel were still in need of help.

 **[0]**

Mabel was sitting in a maze of corn. The stalks were tarnished red and the sky was vibrant indigo. Stars blurred in the horizon, their whiteness turning red as they exploded and burnt out. Bill was roosted in the oak tree that stood in front of her. His suit was no longer tattered and was no red-purple instead of gray-black. And his swollen eye had cracks of blue across it, that pulsated.

 _"Everyday seems a little longer. Every way, love's a little stronger…"_ he sang. _"Come what may, do you ever long for true love from me?"_

Mabel came under the shadow of the tree and stared up at him. And something terribly familiar came to her. Something which she felt that she should have known by now…but that eluded her.

 _"Dipper would have figured it out by now,"_ Bill responded, reading her mind (naturally).

"Why do you hate him?" Mabel asked, feeling the air grow cold as she stared up at him. Her question contained no malice, she was beyond resenting him at this point.

 _"I don't hate anyone…"_ Bill answered, as he straightened himself and fell in front of her. He was almost as tall as the tree, now, though he didn't cast a shadow. _"…I am not capable of a human emotion."_ He cackled.

"Then why did you choose him?" Mabel asked, not nearly as afraid of him as she once had been.

 _"Because he's a Pines…"_ Bill stated as though that were all the reason in the world that might be needed. _"…and because he did me in, a_ long _time ago."_

Mabel felt that same familiar tingle and that same infuriating itch of memory which she realized now had been scratching at her, ever since she arrived in this god forsaken valley. "You mean he killed you…? Dipper never did anything to you."

Bill giggled. _"Now that's where you're erroneous. But I won't spoil the surprise."_ He leaned forward and his sing-song voice made Mabel realize that he was completely sure that she would never figure out what it was that she was missing. _"You keep your friends close and your enemies closer…"_ He muttered as he turned away.

Bill turned his head toward the blurry black sky. Toward the massive asteroid which was approaching. It consumed all that Mabel's eyes could see.

 _"...besides, it just makes him sexier!"_ Bill confessed, giggling like a gossipy 11th grader.

Mabel awoke when cold water splashed across her face, and she opened her eyes, to find herself tied down to a metal chair, in a dark chamber. It smelled horrible inside the chamber, and Mabel realized that she had been stripped down to her bra and underwear.

The person in the red cloak who had splashed her returned the bucket to its resting place behind the door and shuffled into the hall. As they closed the door, Mabel recognized the distant scream.

It was Dipper. The extortion had begun, except Bill wasn't in Dipper's body right now.

 **[0]**

Tate McGucket didn't speak as they rolled him away. From that moment, when he had killed Brenda, over the lake, he had not spoken. And the voice that had dwelled in his mind all this time, had not spoken. That was because Gn'aak didn't need him anymore.

He had served his purpose.

It was clear to him now, as he sat with his hands cuffed behind his back, that Gn'aak was not furious. Gn'aak was not hungry either. And Gn'aak was not babbling or mad.

Gn'aak was intentional. Gn'aak was cold and distant, but Gn'aak knew what human beings wanted. Just lie Byl'. Just like his father. Just like him. It all suddenly made sense, because he now could see the force which had existed throughout his life. The entity responsible for his entire shitty life. The thing that had to be killed before it killed all else.

And most of all, Tate McGucket knew what he had to do.

He had to break his rule, one more time. And he had to kill somebody before they even realized that he was a threat.

Manda broke the back of the truck open and shot two of the three guards. Tate slammed into the guard next to him, and Manda removed the keys from the guard's belt. They leaped from the back, and in the dead of night, the heroine unlocked the hero's handcuffs.

 **[0]**

 ** _Bill was singing "Everyday" by Buddy Holly._**

 ** _Message_** **: _Yrots nwo ruo fo nialliv eht lla era ew._ **

**_Comments_ : **

**Restless Collector** _: Will we ever see the Love God? I always found that aspect creepy. A fallen cupid playing with the lives of mortals, or maybe he could help overcome some of the personal issues that the twins have?_

 _**Ne'zzevs, the demon of perversion mentioned in "Good Intentions" is my version of the Love God. I am not sure if she will appear yet.**_


	29. S2, E11: Flashback

**Episode 11: Flashback**

 _"All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was." -_ **Toni Morrison**

 _"Memory is man's greatest friend and worst enemy." -_ **Gilbert Parker**

* * *

 _Fiddleford rolled through the aisle of the supermarket, his eyes dead ahead as Tate walked by. He was by far the quietest toddler in town, given that he hadn't spoken hardly since his mother's death. His other son, Archie, sat in the baby seat of the chipped cart which McGucket pushed, wailing and flailing to receive comfort from his father._

 _The dingy lights above flickered in a painful manner. Archibald sobbed louder than ever as Fiddleford paid the cashier in cash without a word. Ford had only given him cash. That's because Ford had incriminated him in whatever crime ring he had used to pay for all their equipment._

 _The other scientist's threats echoed in the back of his head as he drove the cart out to his car. He opened it and placed Archie in the passenger seat, on Tate's lap._

 _"Watch your brother's head while I put the groceries away," Fiddleford ordered in a loveless voice._

 _Tate nodded devotedly and his grip around Archie's torso tightened. Fiddleford could tell that first born would rather die than allow his only sibling to come to harm._

 _He turned away and began piling bags in the back. He was halfway done, when a memory of visiting this same store with Bella struck. He started sobbing and had to fall to the ground and cover his mouth to prevent from alerting Tate to his distress._

 _He blubbered as he stared at the vast darkness of the sky._

 _"Fiddleford, are you alright?"_

 _He raised his vision and found the librarian ("Ivan", Fiddleford thought his name was) standing over him. His blood red hair was in a crew cut and he was wearing jeans and a cowboy coat. The look in his eyes was not pity but empathetic._

 _He had been good friends with Bella, and he helped arrange the service. He had given a speech about how much they would miss her, but that in heaven she was happy with her child. During the wake, he had offered to assist Fiddleford._

 _But Fiddleford couldn't have allowed that. Not with the papers lying around, all the proto-types. Not when Ford liked to burst in at random moments and ruin everything. Besides, Fiddleford hadn't visited church since the funeral._

 _The preacher offered his hand and Fiddleford took it. "I am sorry…of course you are not alright. Why don't you let me drive you home?"_

 _Fiddleford nodded. He was in no state to drive._

 _"Thanks." He stated in a raw voice. "I've had trouble…you know…getting behind the wheel ever since…since…"_

 _He fell into a hacking cough, and Ivan put a hand on his shoulder. "Say no more. I understand. I understand."_

 _Fiddleford sat down in the back seat, while Ivan finished with the groceries. Ivan sat down in the driver's seat and gave Tate a smile. Tate didn't seem to recognize the man, but Ivan told him a joke and they were off._

Fiddleford opened his eyes. He had been staring at the drifting of the lake, drifting in and out of consciousness. Now he felt impaled by the memory. All the emotions were fresh in his mind, and he realized, just how many years he had not remembered properly or recalled at all, on seeing Ford.

He turned. Stan was arguing over the phone with his brother. He sounded just like Fiddleford had, over so many things. Ford always got his way though.

That's why he had…that's why he'd begun to…

Fiddleford looked away. Whatever memory had been on the brink of spilling open, was now completely gone. He wasn't even sure what had inspired this first thought.

He turned his attention to the others. Candy lay next to the fire, asleep. Pacifica sat on a log, staring at the stifled flame, and stabbing it with a charred stick every now and then. It appeared as if she had been unable to sleep, unlike her companion. He didn't blame her, and considering that he now knew what he had allowed his son to become, he wasn't sure how he'd ever sleep again.

He glanced back at Candy and her left eye snapped open. He froze like a rabbit in the sight of a fox, and her other eye drew open. Now she gazed up at him, and it felt like she could hear his heart pounding. Like only she knew what had just happened to him, and it was their little secret.

The look she gave wasn't terrifying because it made him feel threatened. It was terrifying because it felt like she understood him better than he did. Pacifica kept on stoking, completely unaware of their staring contest. Stan cursed loudly.

Then she closed both her eyes. And he realized that she had been mimicking sleep down to a tee.

Stan flipped his phone shut and stuffed it into the pocket of his slacks as he moved toward them. "Alright," He ordered with even greater gruffness than usual. "We're going to the meeting spot. Fids, can you get your contacts on locating Dipper and Mabel?"

Fiddleford nodded.

"Well, then you call them and I'll get the car ready. Pacifica, wake up Jae. We need to be there in half an hour."

Fiddleford glanced back at the lake. And it felt as if his stomach transformed into a pit.

 **[0]**

Ivan ran his fingers along the table of instruments. He muttered a prayer as his fingers danced from one to the next. His hands closed around the cat-o-nine tails, and he finished his prayer.

Dipper whimpered again.

He turned toward the bound teen and surveyed him. Dipper's shirt and shorts had been removed, along with his socks and shoes. The demon was in there, trying to lie to him with those hazel eyes. Begging to be left alone.

Ivan closed his eyes, aware that, even now, the demons were pulling him to relinquish. To let the child be, to inflict no more suffering. They were trying to take advantage of his sordid soul and his unnatural desires.

He reopened his eyes and stared at the pale, and mostly untouched flesh of Dipper Pines. Nephew to the devil's right-hand man himself, this was inevitable. Ivan blamed himself for not disciplining the boy sooner.

He had started a few cuts with the scalpel, that most useful of instruments. One cut to the cheek, one cut to the shoulder, and one between the index and middle finger.

Pain. It was the only way to force the demon out. It pierced the mind and cleansed the soul, one drop of blood at a time. And Dipper's blood was dirty as sin, dirty with insanity, dirty with perversion. A perversion of God's wonders.

The boy had visited the library often, that Ivan's operatives had assured him. He would turn out just the same beast as his uncle, if Ivan did not force the wickedness out.

Ivan called in two helpers. He untied the teen while the helpers held him down. Then they turned Dipper around, who was now begging and clawing.

"Quiet, demon…" Ivan instructed as they held Dipper against the wall. He swung the whip and it slashed across the boy's backside. He screamed.

Ivan nodded. "I have broken the possessed before, I will do it again tonight. I promise you…" He swung again. Another scream. "…by sunlight you will have left this poor boy, or he will be up in heaven."

SWISH. Scream.

"Praise be to the founder." He muttered as he turned Dipper's pale back red.

 **[0]**

Contacts, why did Fiddleford McGucket have contacts?

Fiddleford had been contacted, not long after Amanda was taken into custody, by the SBE. He had not accepted the job until after Gideon's disappearance, wanting to be sure that the family he was most loyal to was fine.

Now, he had memories of campaigning. It had been from him running for the mayor's office. And Fiddleford had been running against Preston Norwood. Preston had been richer by a mile, which meant more donation, more ads, and a better chance.

But Ivan had stuck by his side for his entire campaign. Every late-night meeting, every shift in plans. Ivan had been there.

And when Fiddleford had won, Ivan had broken out the beer. They had won. They had succeeded in their mission.

 _What mission?_ Fiddleford desperately tried to guess as they stopped in front of the Sparts Motel.

Ford was standing in the parking lot, leaning against a car. He wore a bandage and a scowl. Someone had done something displeasing to him.

Fiddleford had a flash to his first meeting with Ford. Both, top of their classes. They had bumped into one another on campus, and it had started from there. Fiddleford had been a bit of a "player" around that time, handsome and charming (that latter part had not changed). He had jumped from one relationship to the next, only ever feeling fulfilled when he and Bella met two years after graduation.

Ford had been the opposite. Fiddleford had often wondered if Ford actually was unable to become attracted to women, because despite his rugged handsomeness and anxiety (which girls seemed to have found 'cute'), Ford had hardly touched a girl. Sex didn't seem to interest him, and neither did love.

Instead, Ford had been focused on two things. The first had been an idea from long before Fiddleford's introduction into the taller man's life. That had been the master plan. Ford sketched a new design for what the master plan might look like every week. He stayed up late, he pushed himself to unhealthy lengths.

And the second thing had been friendship. Ford had desired friendship almost as much as he desired success and security. And Fiddleford, the target of that desire, had felt so special because of it. Because Stanford Pines didn't smile at just anyone. Because Stanford Pines only cared about his research, and that meant that when he took time off to talk with McGucket, to take a walk, to play chess, anything, it meant that McGucket was worth something more.

Fiddleford didn't remember why that had been so important. Receiving validation from this one man. He didn't know why he had felt so empty before Bella.

But he did know that he had moved to Gravity Falls, not because he was friends with Ford. He had moved because Ford and he had a mission, and Fiddleford had considered the mission to be the most important thing to him, before Bella and his own children.

He followed out to Ford, who was asking Stan about Bill's involvement. Robbie sat in the car, which had a broken front beam. Tambry sat beside him. Fiddleford wondered if she knew what her parents had once done under his command.

"This doesn't feel like Bill," Stan responded to whatever Ford had just said. He folded his arms and shivered. "It feels like we were late to the party."

Robbie shifted and Fiddleford's eyes widened. "You know, don't you?" He asked in a brittle voice.

Robbie raised his head, and Ford and Stan both turned and glanced at Fiddleford. They noticed his glare and then everyone was staring at Robbie. Candy's face was blank, Tambry was confused, Pacifica was enraged, Stan was trembling, and Ford looked unsurprised.

"You know who took them, don't you?" Fiddleford repeated, his voice unchanging.

In his mind, though, they were not all staring at a very guilty, disabled teenager. They were surrounding a woman, crouched on the ground, begging for her life. It was pouring rain and the woman was begging for them to leave her be.

 _"Hush child…hush…"_ He'd said.

They turned on the woman as soon as he snapped his fingers. Her hands were bound, her legs were bound, and her blue blouse was stained with mud as they gagged her and pulled a bag over her head.

 _"Soon you will be free of what you've seen."_

Robbie broke and Fiddleford realized he'd been staring into space.

"Fine! Father Nathaniel, I told him about Dipper being…possessed…" Robbie admitted. "And Father Nathaniel is part of the-the Brotherhood of the Watchful Eye."

Fiddleford expected Stan to pick up Robbie by the collar, and threaten him. Instead, Pacifica grabbed him and yanked him out of the car. He rolled across the dusty gravel of the hotel parking lot and leaped on top of him, gripping his hair and screaming at him.

Fiddleford leaped and he, together with Tambry and Stan pulled Pacifica clawing and screaming off Robbie. The assaulted teen had one hand over his face, and Fiddleford realized how truly pathetic he was.

He remembered the way Robbie's father had gone into shock on seeing one of their cleansed. Fiddleford shivered at his own thought.

 _Cleansed_. Fire and blood, blood and fire. The smell of smoke covered everything.

No, not cleansed, it had been one of their victims. A young man who had been mutilated beyond belief. A young man who had known too much.

 _Too much._

Stan had now picked up Robbie, in the same fashion that Fiddleford had expected. The teen's skinny legs dangled, and his arm swiped at the air. As he begged to be let go, Stan snarling obscenities while Ford tried in an even tone to calm his brother down.

Tambry was trying to get Stan to stop, by pounding on his chest and bringing out her own collection of blasphemies.

"If I ever see you in this fucking town again," Stan removed his gun from his ankle and pressed the barrel to Tambry's temple. Pacifica watched on, her eyes shiny and her hand to her own throat. "I'm going to find a nice spot for you and your girlfriend to dig your graves."

Stan tossed Robbie back to the ground, and Tambry helped get him up. They moved much faster than they had before, with the latter driving.

Fiddleford swallowed as Ford patted Stan on the back.

"They'll be fine. Don't worry about them, Lee. What we need to worry about is where they are."

Fiddleford found himself nodding along with Ford's claim, as Ford led them all inside the hotel and up the stairs to the room he'd rented (with Stan's credit card). So far, the memories which had come to him were fuzzy and scary. But now that he had a suspicious idea of just who this Brotherhood were, he was desperate for a memory that would tell him where they were.

 **[0]**

Listening to her brother's torture was terrible for two reasons. The first was that Mabel couldn't imagine the pain he was sustaining, and that she was useless to stop that pain. She had worn herself senseless screaming for them to stop hurting Dipper, and was resigned to sitting in the chair, too exhausted to think, and too sick (from being knocked out) to fall back asleep.

The second reason was that she knew soon, it would be her turn.

Her cell was pitch black, and the air was musty. And the chains she had been bound with were cold, colder than the air which covered her skin in goosebumps. Cold enough to bite and make her wiggle against the grimy frame of the chair she was bound to.

She didn't know why they had stripped her down to her underwear and bra, but she could only guess it was just another cruelty they wanted to inflict. The lack of protection made the chair, the room, and the chains just that much more uncomfortable. Still, any moment, she expected some old guy to enter the room and start running his hands over her body.

Mabel closed her eyes and waited for Dipper's hoarse cries to die down. She would rather be with Bill (twisted, fucking hateful Bill), then to sit here feeling trapped and exposed. Her hands had been bound so that the palms were facing toward the sides of her stomach. Any use of magic would tear through her skin before it destroyed the chair or her bindings.

The door opened, a man and a woman in their own cloaks, came to her side. They unlocked the chain keeping her to the chair, and then both grabbed a shoulder as they stood her up. Her feet were bound tight enough that she couldn't walk, so they dropped her to the stone floor of the cell and grabbed the chains that curled across her chest. The man gripped the chain, and the girl grabbed her legs. Together, they moved her like you would a coffin.

Mabel remained quiet as they shuffled into the dripping hall, her view illuminated only by a lantern that a third person held. It took her a moment to realize that the people carrying her, were shaking.

They were terrified of _her_.

It took a second for her to realize that to them, she and Dipper were the monsters. She was the witch, and he was the teen who gets possessed and starts speaking in tongues.

 _And they aren't exactly wrong_ , her mind told her.

They brought her into a room so bright that she started squinting and placed her down on a chair. The man who had captured her and Dipper stood before her, smiling from beside a table full of tools. There was a whip which lay next to his hand. It was coated in blood.

Dipper's blood.

Mabel paled and kept quiet as he moved closer to her, his head now blocking the single bulb in the white walled room. Her back touched the shabby paint and she realized why he had hidden his face behind a hood.

The right side of his face was covered in scars. And in his right eye socket, there was only a web of flesh. The rest of his face wasn't much better. He was the oldest looking man that Mabel had ever seen and he was covered in dirt. He had tattoos on the side of his face, of stars, eyes, and hearts.

"Hello, little one…hopefully, you'll be more co-operative than your brother." He stated in a too kindly voice for someone who had just beaten her brother's back until it bled.

Mabel tried not to focus on the things she wanted to do to the old man. So, she stared up at him with barely hidden teeth.

He smiled wider. "Don't worry. By the end of tonight, you will be just as innocent and untouched as you were when you entered this valley."

He picked up a small knife. "By the end of tonight…you will be clean. One way or another we will make you clean."

He moved to the side of her and slid the blade over her cheek. She hoped that she wasn't trembling as hard as she felt like she was.

"I want you to know that you are forgiven. All of us are forgiven in the eyes of the lord. But you need to be able to accept your own corruption for that forgiveness to be graced." He said as he stared at her almost lovingly.

He tightened his grip on the knife's handle. "So, let's start by you admitting to how you received the mark of a demon on your palm?"

The door closed, leaving the old man and the sixteen-year-old alone in the same room.

 **[0]**

"We need a place to hold our meetings." Ivan had stated, as they talked it over one evening. As they strolled through the forest, each in a coat.

Fiddleford had nodded. "We need a place where we can hold all the information that we gather. Where the town's knowledge can be controlled."

They paused, in front of a waterfall that cascaded brilliantly. Ivan had smiled. "I think I know the perfect place."

Fiddleford was awoken by hearing hushed voices. It was Ford, standing out in the hall of the hotel room. Stan was collapsed in the armchair next to Fiddleford's. Pacifica was sleeping. Candy was (he thought) sleeping as well. Fiddleford placed his palms on the ends of his armchair. He got to his feet, shaking, and approached the door to the shabby apartment. Ford was not was quiet as he probably thought, his whispers inflamed with rage.

Fiddleford slid the door open a crack and Ford noticed him immediately. He snapped closed his phone (where had he gotten that? The SBE hadn't given him one) and smiled.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, half hidden by the dim light of the hallway.

Fiddleford nodded. He wasn't seeing Ford now, or at least, he wasn't seeing the sixty-something, Ford. He was seeing the young man he'd worked with, who had descended the stairs into the basement, laughing as Fiddleford worked to turn on the machine and control it without assistance.

Whose eyes had shined yellow in the dark as Fiddleford bent over the table (the table, what table?). His laughter had been unbearable.

"I…" Fiddleford backed away. He was now unable to see Ford. He could only see Bill in Ford's body, grinning at him.

"What's the matter, Fids?" Ford asked, moving forwards and causing Fiddleford to jump further back.

Stan was waking up. Fiddleford was trapped.

 _"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"_ Bill had snarled as he marched towards Fiddleford. Fiddleford had been laying on the ground…moaning in pain.

 _"You're a time bomb."_ He'd whispered once, in Fiddleford's ear.

 _"You're not my problem."_

 _"We're in this together, or I make sure that word doesn't get out."  
"You can't leave now. We're so close to achieving our dream."_

 _Our dream_. Not just a shiny ideal displayed at sunrise. Dreams. Deeper and deeper into the dreams. Wires and cogs and rivets and scalpels and scalps and dreams.

And nightmares.

Laughter as big as the sun.

Ford touched him and it came running back. Exiting the basement in time to watch Ford take some money from a man with a dozen tattoos and a gun at his belt.

 _"How do you think I've been paying for all our machinery? You think it's easy, trying to change the world? Sacrifices must be made."_

Fiddleford raised his eyes to meet Ford's. Normal, brown, calming. They had always had a calming effect.

"I need to go see something," Fiddleford said after Stan asked what was going on.

The twins shared a look.

"I know that if I check this, then I'll remember…where the Brotherhood is. I am sorry…but I have to go alone." He stated, not glancing away from Ford. He couldn't be in the same room as the other. But Bill had never set foot in his house.

There was something, something back there. The missing piece of the puzzle. McGucket needed it, he needed to grasp it all before the blank spaces killed them (and he felt on the verge of dying).

He apologized again and then made a hasty exit. Down the hall, down the stairs, never once looking back. He needed to know.

He had to do something good before he was consumed by all the wrongness he had (cleaned) forgotten.

 **[0]**

"Tell me everything that you've done," Ivan asked as he sat, on the other side of the table on which kept on his table. "Tell me everything unnatural that you've sought."

Mabel swallowed, glanced at the sickle which was in his left hand, and then began. "One my first few days in this town, I was kidnapped by some faeries. Di-" She paused, wondering what this man would do to her brother if he knew that she was attached to her experiences. She made a split-second decision as he raised his head to stare back at her.

"My uncle saved me. After that, me and a bunch of other teenagers…"

"Names," Ivan stated, without looking up from the blade. "I need you to give me their names."

"I don't remember them all…" Mabel responded.

Ivan lifted his eye, and Mabel shuddered when his gaze struck her. She closed her eyes and recalled them. "Lee, Nate, Thompson, and Wendy." She wasn't about to endanger Robbie or Tambry by ratting them out to this guy.

Ivan nodded. "Continue."

"A ghost…multiple ghosts were there…they killed Nate, Lee, and Thompson. After that, I met Gideon. He tried to make me make a pact with a demon, but I refused. Then I fought…and killed, the Summerween monster. After that, Gideon tried to possess my uncle…by summoning a Demon."

Ivan slid forward. "Named By'l."

Mabel frowned and nodded. "I exorcised him…but he made my brother fall into a comma. I made a deal with the demon to kill Gideon and save my brother. And that's why I have his mark. Then, these government agents accidentally summoned a bunch of…zombies…and Wendy accidentally released a shapeshifter from this bunker. It killed her and some other people. So, I killed it."

"And then your brother made a pact with the demon?" Ivan summarized with a pleased expression. It occurred to Mabel that he clearly knew all about the supernatural goings-on in the valley if he believed half of the things that she was talking about. Yet, he had clearly adjusted to this completely different then she had.

"I exorcised a poltergeist…but yes, then…then Dipper made a deal with Bill." Mabel admitted.

Ivan stood up. "And that's all?" He asked, with the sickle returned to its resting place.

Mabel nodded.

He smirked. "Now, I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth. I need to know every unholy act which you, your brother, and your friends witnessed, so that I may cleaned them from records and memory."

Mabel stared at him a moment and then her face tightened. "I told you everything." She replied.

Ivan sighed. "You really are a nice girl." He picked up a strand of rope and looped it across a couple gnarled knuckles. "It is a shame that I am going to have to punish you."

He snapped his fingers and the same two who had carried her in entered. They gripped her shoulders and Ivan tossed the rope to the man. He looped it over Mabel's neck, even as she began to struggle, and Ivan closed his eyes.

He began praying as they strangled Mabel, the girl holding her chair down while the man prevented her from breathing. Pain filled her throat, the rope biting her skin as she rocked against the man's body. She gargled and croaked, unable to even scream.

Ivan snapped his fingers, just when Mabel felt about to pass out.

The man let go and backed away from her, while the woman set the front two legs of Mabel's chair back down. Mabel hacked and coughed, while Ivan folded his arms.

"Ready?"

Mabel sniffed and stared at the floor next to her foot.

Ivan sighed. They always had to make it so much more difficult than it needed to be.

He snapped his fingers and the rope was back around Mabel's neck for another round of strangulation. He watched as her eyes bugged and her feet and hands twisted against her bindings.

They would do this all night if they had to, but she would break. Everyone did after enough punishment.

 **[0]**

Fiddleford clawed through the bricks and boards that lay as the only remains of his house. His palms were bleeding, his entire body sweaty and cold. His breath appeared in the air as he shoveled through the mess, sick to his stomach.

He didn't stop, despite the pain and exhaustion. He needed to find what he was looking for. He needed to find the key to it all, or he would fall apart.

Fiddleford went on like this, for no determinable amount of time. He only stopped, when he saw the necklace that his mother had made him.

His mother, she came back in a flash. Beautiful, and silent. Perfect and always in mourning. In mourning for the man who his father used to be. His father, raging and confused, frustrated and humiliated. His father, kind and wonderful when Fiddleford was younger. Then he'd become angry at everything and everyone (angry because of what?). Anger had faded into ultimate despondence.

Ford, his first friend since middle school. Ford, who he would do anything for. Even help feed an alien experiment (their screams. He could still hear the screams of the men they introduced Abe to). Ford who was also screwed up, who also had a defect (what defect?). Ford, who would accept him for his strangeness, and who believed in dreams, instead of just claiming to.

Then Belle. Belle, who didn't deserve any of it. Belle, who had been killed by that lunatic. Belle who was smiling down at him from heaven even as he cleansed others (who? Why? How?) right alongside Ivan.

Ivan, who had been there after Fiddleford failed to resurrect Belle with The Machine. After Fiddleford saw more than he ever should have, after he cursed his best friend and all that he stood for.

Devoted towards killing Ford, that had been his motivation when he started. First, he had filled in for the priest on a couple days (the poor man had been suffering from lung cancer). Then people started coming by his house, for advice, for help. Because Fiddleford had seen those real things, all of them.

Fiddleford had told Ivan about how he needed support and power if he was going to rid the valley of the monsters. Ivan had supported him with hours of his life. After all, Ivan had lost his brother to the monstrosities which lurked around every corner. Fiddleford had run for mayor. Ivan had funded it with money from smuggling rings (sacrifices must be made).

Fiddleford had begun to hold meetings at Ivan's house. He'd begun to teach about the danger of too much knowledge. About how The Bible stated that Demons did exist and where among them.

Fiddleford had let Archibald die and Ivan had cleaned up his mess. They had cleaned up the body, in the same place where they clean up all the bodies. All the people who they'd cleansed with fire, water, knives, or guns. The people who they had lobotomized to make sure that they never spoke about the truth and spread the influence of the millions of demons which sat on the edge of reality and preyed on paranoia.

Underneath the library. In the giant furnace.

Fiddleford suddenly saw it all, every mistake was reenacted, every blank spot was filled. And for the first time in years, Fiddleford knew who he was.

A crooked, manipulative, megalomaniac suffering from the same hereditary mental deterioration which his father had.

He turned on his phone and dialed Stan.

 _"Fids, what the hell were you-!"_

"They are at the library. The cult is underneath the library, with Dipper and Mabel. Tell Ford that I forgive him."

Fiddleford ended the call and dialed Agent Lockhart.

 _"Mr. McGucket? What's going on? You haven't been respond-"_

"Go down to Floor Nine. Input the password 'Ann' and then 'Mother may I.' The truth in the acronym will kill her. I apologize for what I've done to you all."

 _"What-?"_

Fiddleford tossed his phone into the rubble, adjusted his coat, and headed in the direction of his car.

It was time to finish what he'd started.

 **[0]**

Lockhart checked the records regarding McGucket after receiving his phone call. Apparently, he was hired as a consultant and had done lots of mechanical work for them in the earlier years of the S.B.E. He had been good friends with the founder.

Ten minutes after McGucket's call, Lockhart had received a call from Stan Pines, asking if Lockhart could send some troops to the library because Mabel and Dipper were inside. Lockhart held off on doing so because he had a bad feeling about the entire thing. As well, his men needed to rest and he wanted to be sure about all of this.

He entered the elevator down the hall from his new, managerial office. The boss had given him more power after Gray had died and Fiddleford had started to visit more often. He slid his key inside the little pad needed to access the lower floors and pressed the button labeled '9.' He adjusted his tie as the elevator brought him past all the other floors. Agents only came to Level Nine under the special order from Command. But Lockhart was tired of feeling used, tired of being kept out of the equation.

He was going to find out the truth if it killed him.

The doors of the elevator opened. He stepped into the cramped, dark hall that led to the floor's only room. A password keypad stood next to the door to that one room, which looked more like a vault than anything else.

Lockhart typed in "Annie", and stepped back as the door turned and unlocked, releasing steam. Lockhart stepped inside the tiny, quarantine room revealed. The door rolled back into place and Lockhart was hosed with some strange gas. He felt a little lightheaded as the next door opened. He stepped into a completely unlit room, with the walls covered in buttons, levers, switches, and glowing readouts.

In the center of the room, was a massive, lumpy device covered in wires. A huge flat screen sat in the center of it. The device hummed with energy and a voice came over the loudspeakers above him, as the screen flashed on, to reveal a static, black and white photo of a woman holding a baby.

 _"Hello, Lockhart. How did you get that password?"_ Command asked over the speakers inside the room. _"You haven't been granted that by any personnel. Oh, Fiddleford, gave it to you, didn't he? I knew we'd have to eliminate him eventually."_

"What are you?" He asked as he stared at the machine.

 _"You, are breaking seventeen protocols. You will need to be cleansed of the information which Fiddleford has shared with you."_

The door closed behind Lockhart as he realized what he was staring at.

 **[0]**

Mabel gasped for breath, unable to stop shaking. She tasted metal in her mouth, and the room was spinning.

"I will give you one last chance to tell me before I will begin with the real punishment," Ivan stated, sadly, as he ran a hand through her hair.

Mabel caught her breath and raised her eyes to meet his. "Shut up." She ordered.

He frowned and she continued. "I've been stabbed, clawed, tackled, bitten, shot at, and burned. There's nothing you can do, to make me sell out my friends."

Ivan sighed. He put one hand to his chin and brushed the other one across the bruise that the rope had made on her neck. He slid that hand up until he was touching her cheek.

Then he smacked her so hard that her chair tipped over and the left side of her head slammed into the floor.

Ivan sighed again and then turned to his assistants. "Bring in the brother." He ordered.

Mabel, regardless of the fact that she was seeing stars, still heard his words. And the moment that she did, she began begging him not to do anything to Dipper. Her words fell on deaf ears, and when she ignored Ivan's quiet order to be silent, he kicked her in the stomach.

Winded, she could do nothing but watch as they dragged Dipper inside.

They through his limp body against the wall across from Mabel, and he shuddered, and moaned in pain. Ivan picked up a knife and told the woman to stand Mabel up so that she had a "proper" view of the proceedings.

She did so, as Ivan rounded the table and told the man to grab Dipper. Dipper didn't argue, he just covered his face as the muscular man picked him up. The man punched him a couple times, and Dipper went completely limp. The man extended Dipper's right hand, the mark on the palm revealed as Ivan muttered a few prayers.

He turned and addressed Mabel, who watched in silent horror. "You will watch as I cut your brother's corrupted hand off. Then, you will tell me the truth, and I will send him to have his brain re-adjusted."

He raised the knife out. It glinted, Dipper whimpered.

Mabel burst. "Dipper saved me from the faeries! He warned me about Gideon, he saved me from the ghosts! He figured out how to defeat The Trickster! He killed the poltergeist! Please! He's the best thing that's ever happened to this valley! If you want to stop Bill, you need his help! Candy, Brenda, Pacifica, Robbie, and Tambry. Those are all the people who helped us kill those monsters. Please…don't hurt him…"

Mabel's eyes were wet and her neck hurt harder than ever. Ivan quirked his eyebrow. Then, he smiled and put the knife down. He moved over to her, and hugged her, pressing his wrinkled, tattooed, infected face against the side of hers.

"I knew that you could be a good girl." He whispered in her ear as she stared at Dipper and as her heart returned to normal.

He stood up and gestured for Dipper to be tied down to the wall beside Mabel. His assistants leaped to it, immediately, with Dipper still too spent to fight back. As he passed, Mabel saw the dozen or so scars from the whip. They were bleeding, and the flesh around them was purple.

She swore, right then and there, that she was going to kill this bastard.

"Now, I am going to ask you to recount these incidents in detail, and every time that I get an answer I don't like," He gestured to his assistance. "They are going to punish your brother with a lash."

Mabel nodded, desperate to receive his approval.

Ivan smirked and moved back to the table. He sat down and moved the knife back to its place. Then he spoke. "Now, tell me about these fairies."

A knocking came for the door. Ivan gestured and the woman moved to it. She opened the door and said something in a harsh whisper to the person on the other side.

The woman moved to Ivan. "Sir…" She said in a low voice. "…Mr. McGucket has returned."

Ivan sat up, whispered something to the woman, and then told the man to follow them. He smiled at Mabel.

"I'll be back in just a moment." He said, in that same, horrifyingly blasé tone which he always uses.

 **[0]**

Lockhart took a step back from the machine which had been ordering him around for the past several years. The machine which had threatened his partner. The machine that had remained hidden down here for years.

The computer spoke, its synthetic voice simulating the exhaustion of a human being. _"Lockhart, please do not panic like the last agent who came down here unexpectedly."_

The boss's voice had always been monotone, but this was so much worse. The computer sounded different inside this room, with less layering for its voice.

Syllables became demonic inside the sanctum and the computer's voice jerked about one speaker to the next. It was airy, and empty of emotion and human cadence. The words were generated by a text to speech program, with the ability to mimic stereotypical feminine voice. This was even more disturbing, since technically, the entire room was the computer.

It came from various Lockhart turned away and began attempting to force the door open. He needed to get out of here before whatever had happened to the last agent happened to him.

 _"Even if you should escape…we will merely track you down. There is no way out. You are devoted to the S.B.E. You always have been…well, if you do not count that time you and Gray went off script."_

Lockhart paused. He slowly turned. "What?"

 _"Oh, now you'd like to talk. Well, I'm afraid I'm not interested in small talk. You're not even going to remember this conversation, so it serves no purpose."_ ANN stated as an alarm went off.

Lockhart raised his face to stare at the machine's "face." He took a shallow breath before he spoke. "What do you mean…what are you talking about?" When no response came, his eyes widened and he began to accuse. "You did something to my mind…didn't you!?"

The computer beeped and calculated. But it did not reply.

"I…I've been working for a machine this whole time…and the reason why Gray…his family…WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIS FAMILY!? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO OUR HEADS?"

The computer crackled on. _"I would discourage blasphemy."_

"WHAT DID YOU DO!?" Lockhart roared as he pulled out his gun.

 _"You cannot threaten me, I exist as a program on a million hard drives. I am The Solution."_

Lockhart ignored the machine. He turned to the door and shot the lock. Then he ran over to the one chair in the room. It was beneath the mound of machinery which dangled from the top. A small, blue screen sat waiting for him. It looked like something out of the 90s, rubbish compared to modern screens.

 _"Shooting the lock will not do you any good. I can manually open any door."_

As the computer said it, the door began to open.

Lockhart typed in, quickly the phrase which McGucket had told him. "Mother May I." The door stopped, and the computer spent a moment, processing information. Then, its voice came back on, this time younger and sickly sweet.

 _"Hello, Jake! My name is ANN. That stands for Artificial Natural Negator. Welcome back, darling. You are now in full control of the facility. Guards are approaching, in five…four…"_ ANN stated chipper and more human.

Lockhart grabbed the microphone above the keypad. "Close the doors. Put the entire facility on lockdown if you have to, stop them from getting in here."

 _"Right on it, honey!"_

The door slammed shut.

 _"Now, do you want to start where we last picked up…or do you need reminding?"_

Lockhart realized that the computer thought he was someone else. McGucket most likely.

"Why don't you remind me…" Lockhart asked as he glanced back. He was halfway inside of the machine, unable to see the door. He could hear struggling on the other side, however.

 _"Okay! Let's start where we always do…with me!"_

 **[0]**

Stan crouched a block away from the library. Ford sat beside him, staring at the area with binoculars.

They had not allowed Pacifica or Candy to come with them.

"I would guess that there are likely to be thirty or forty down there. The odds of us getting inside and getting out with the twins are very low." He stated as he put down the binoculars.

Stan grunted. "I'm not sitting here any longer, Ford. Lockhart and his friends obviously aren't coming. And god knows what they've already done to them…"

Ford sighed. "Well, I recommend that we wait until Fiddleford comes back out."

Stan sat up. "What? He went in there…when?"

Ford shrugged. "Oh, ten…fifteen minutes ago…"

Stan opened the driver side door and stepped out, turning the safety off his gun. "That's it," He called, as he rounded the corner of the alley. "I'm not waiting for a second longer."

Ford rushed out after him and grabbed him by the shoulder. He jerked Stan back around the corner and put a hand to his lips. Stan gave him a frustrated look and the shorter man gestured to the road.

Stan glanced over at the road leading from the woods, into town. Hundreds of people, in yellow hoods, with eyes on the front of their hoods, were moving through the darkness. Many were bearing torches. Others held knives, sickles, hatchets, and scythes.

And those were the ones who weren't carrying guns.

They were all muttering some phrase in a dead language. And at the front of them, walked Priscilla Norwood.

Stan remembered the recent flood of tourists. His eyes widened. Bill's worshippers.

Ford folded his arms. "Well…if we're lucky, they'll kill all the members of the Brothership, and they won't touch the twins."

Stan swallowed before he spoke. "Oh yeah, and what are the odds of that, smart guy?"

Ford shrugged. "One in 660."

 **[0]**

When Fiddleford McGucket strode into the room, with Ivan laughing at his side, he was not the same person. He was taller, with the kind of self-confidence that Mabel had once thought Pacifica boasted. McGucket was the real deal, though, because he took one look at her and sighed.

"Oh…Mabel…Mabel…Mabel…whatever will we do with you?" He wondered aloud with a cruel smirk.

Mabel remained silent. Something had changed. He was no longer the stuttering old man missing half of his mind. He was something much, much worse.

Fiddleford strutted over to her and opened her palm (she didn't fight him). He tsked. "You've been a very naughty girl, hatching plans with Bill…"

Ivan grinned like a kid about to watch his dad beat up another kid's dad, and he sent the assistants out of the room, before locking the door.

Fiddleford leaned down close to Mabel's face. "Don't worry, though…I'm merciful…once you've been cleansed, you'll able to walk free."

Mabel swallowed. "McGucket…please they-!"

"Are torturing you?" He asked with a satisfied smile on his face. "No, no, dear. The Brotherhood would never do something like that…see…we are teaching you two, that you can't mess with witchcraft and expect to get out of it."

He cracked his knuckles and moved over to her brother. Dipper stared at McGucket with surprise and fear. Fiddleford ruffled his hair.

"The two of you have been naughty." He stated as he stepped away from Dipper and over to the table. "You think I don't remember you, Dipper? You were there when my wife was killed…you were there before you had even been born."

Mabel closed her eyes tightly as he moved over to her. "And you…you've been snooping around in places you don't belong since the beginning, haven't you?"

Mabel shook her head without opening her eyes.

"Yes, you have. Don't lie to me. See, lies are wrong. But if it is made that the information is not remembered, then no lie is perpetrated. Everything is relative my dear."

Fiddleford stepped behind Mabel. He gripped her hair and held it up, causing her to grit her teeth. Now that he was behind her, she had the horrible anxiety he was about to put his hands around her neck.

SNICK!

Fiddleford cut through Mabel's hair and shortened it. Mabel opened her eyes and found that she was panting.

"Knowledge is useless for us humans because only God can know everything. All that we are doing by pursuing it is searching for our own doom." He placed a hand atop her head. "But once you and your brother have been thoroughly punished, you will be sweet, innocent children once again. You'll never have another obsession, another dirty thought…another defect. Instead, you will be perfect."

Mabel felt her knees become queasy.

"Ivan, come over her and untie her. I want to have her chained and naked next to her brother." stated, as he petted her head.

Ivan moved over to her with a grim look of agreement. When McGucket stuck his knife into Ivan's neck, blood spurted across Mabel's exposed legs.

Ivan's dead body toppled backward, and McGucket knelt in front of her to untie her.

"I'm sorry about acting like such a prick." He apologized as Mabel stared at Ivan's body, trying to take in the rush of relief from panic. "But Ivan knew me like the back of his hand. If I slipped up, he was going to string me up."

Mabel wanted to ask why Ivan knew him. She wanted to ask why he was here and how he'd known that they were here. Instead, she glanced at Dipper to make sure that he was safe.

He finished with the ropes and removed his own hood. He tossed it to her, and began removing Ivan's own cloak.

"Your brother is still possessed, isn't he?" McGucket asked as Mabel began untying Dipper, still tugging Ivan's cloak off.

Mabel glared at him as Dipper fell into her shoulder. "We aren't leaving him here!"

Fiddleford stood up. "Relax, I just meant that his hands should be bound as we escape."

Mabel wanted to protest, but the seventy-something man clearly knew what he was doing and she was too exhausted to come up with a counter argument. "Just…we don't have to tie his wrist's too tight…do we?"

She was dragging Dipper towards Fiddleford, with him still unresponsive. Fiddleford's eyes met hers and he shook his head. "No, they don't have to be too tight."

He handed the hood to Mabel and told her to put it on over Dipper. As he dragged Ivan's body underneath the table, Mabel tried to get the hood over Dipper's body without hurting him or looking at his scars. The inside of the cloak was scratchy against bare skin, but she begged him to stop fighting the pain inflicted as the fabric ran across his wounds.

"You're alright…" She promised, with wide eyes.

Fiddleford returned to them, and adjusted his own cloak. He apologized to Dipper as he bound his hands and when he stepped away he ordered Mabel to stand right behind Dipper always. She did as commanded and whispered to Dipper that he would be alright.

"Just follow me, and neither of you say a word." Fiddleford ordered in a whisper.

He opened the door and told the two assistants that Ivan wanted alone time with the prisoners and that they two of them should go pray. He was very convincing, and Mabel felt unsafe in the presence of someone so sociopathic as she shut the door to Ivan's room.

She followed Fiddleford through the dark tunnels, with only the occasional lantern to guide them. As they passed her and Dipper's cells, she didn't even think about her clothes. All she wanted to do was get out of this horrible place.

She and Dipper trotted along behind Fiddleford for ten minutes as they moved quickly and silently, up one staircase and up another. They were just beneath the library itself when people started to rush past them in the direction of the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Fiddleford asked one cultist as people in robes began to pass, carrying weapons and shouting orders to one another.

"Norwood's army is outside. The demon's worshippers are upon us." The man responded, before tossing his hunting rifle strap over his shoulder and pounding up the clay stairs.

"C'mon!" Fiddleford yelled to them, grabbing Dipper by the arm and pulling him and Mabel toward the stairs. "We need to get out of here before this place turns into a war zone."

Dipper giggled. And Mabel's heart sunk when someone in a hood came running up from behind, pointing at McGucket.

"IVAN'S DEAD!" They screamed. "IVAN'S DEAD!"

Fiddleford turned just as the mob of panicked individuals turned their gazes on him, and began moving towards him, Dipper, and Mabel with eerie silence and whispered threats.

 **[0]**

Lockhart stated at the screen, his eyes red.

ANN had cheerily described how "He" had built her to continue his legacy. How its prime directive, was not to defeat or study the supernatural. It was too obscure and obliterate any information regarding it.

How he, along with everyone else inside the SBE, were victims of their memories being tampered or downright bleached, in order that they should never discover their true purpose. ANN told him in details the extent of Gray's, and his own brainwashing.

Lockhart glanced back at the unopened doors. The guards were trapped back there, and everyone else was likely panicking. How much greater would they panic, if they knew how much they were being used.

ANN had called herself immortal. She claimed that she had been invented to combat

"Is there a way to shut you down?" He finally asked, unable to bear the immense weight of the horror he had just uncovered.

 _"Doing so would result in a massive shut down of temperamental control background hum and could result in a collapse of all systems."_

"Is there a way to shut you down!?" Lockhart repeated. He would tear this machine apart with his bare hands if he had to.

 _"Yes. But only with the input of "original vision" protocol."_

Lockhart put a hand to his head as he tried to puzzle out her meaning. As he did, Fiddleford's words to him returned in a startling echo.

 _It's in the acronym._

It was a code word, one of those words used to trigger people out of hypnosis. And it brought back every ugly truth which had been dislodged from his brain. The other agents who had died, the individuals who had been consumed into the monster which Fiddleford created.

And the coda came to mind, deep imprinted beneath every document. The words repeated in the shuffle of air duct blades and repeated in every song which played.

"Society of the Blind Eye," Lockhart repeated in a croak.

And with those words spoken, ANN shut down. The humming which had kept him docile for the past four years disappeared. Lockhart's mind, along with those of seven hundred other individuals, imploded.

 **[0]**

The cultists leaped on Fiddleford, able to tell from his expression and flimsy excuses. Dipper (Bill, always Bill, always Bill at the worst possible moment). Mabel pulled Dipper away from Fiddleford, unwilling to allow him to become victim to these anymore.

They weren't noticed, the mob to busy screaming "TRAITOR" and "DEMON WORSHIPPER!" as they tore into Fiddleford. He didn't even scream in pain. He just lay there as they held his arms and legs, jerking him back and forth and digging their knives into his chest.

Mabel didn't watch any longer. She only glanced behind when they had exited the shadowy stairs and burst into the library.

Just as she saw the sea of faces outside the windows of the library, chanting Bill's name, the warmth which had been building in her left hand, disappeared. In fact, the sensation of being in a body disappeared as well, as every vein was invaded.

Then she was untying Dipper's hands, and he was laughing in Bill's voice. And she was laughing in that same voice.

As their distorted pupils met, Mabel felt all hope exit her mind.

 **[0]**

Pacifica and Candy had left the hotel almost immediately after Stan and Ford, with neither willing to sit by while Dipper and Mabel were in danger. Pacifica still did not feel safe in the proximity of Candy, due to her sudden change in personality, but she tried not to show that as Candy broke into a car without triggering the alarm and then summarized that Pacifica was skilled enough to hotwire it.

As Pacifica drove, she tried not to focus on Candy's dead stare straight ahead. Candy only ceased her stare when they approached the town's main street.

A mass of yellow people was laying siege to the library, with people in red hoods shooting and tossing fire at their adversaries from the windows. People were looting nearby stores, as it seemed that the sheriff's department (along with everyone else) had wisely abandoned town.

Pacifica slowed the car when she saw her mother, standing in front of the scene with arms wide, chanting encouragement to her fellow cultists. Candy pointed, and Pacifica hit the brakes when she saw what Candy was pointing at.

Dipper and Mabel were standing on the rooftop of the library, completely alone. Pacifica couldn't make out their expressions but their hands were linked and there was something wrong with the way that they were standing.

Then grappling hook arched over the riot, clinging to the edge of the roof. The thin wire shined in the light of the full moon, but went unnoticed because of the gunshots and shouting. Pacifica followed the wire to the top of a hardware store almost the same height as the library and saw Stan and Ford preparing to slide down it to get to the twins.

"We have to get up there…" She stated in a dry voice.  
Candy was already out of the car and rushing into the building. Pacifica opened the car side door, and had just begun to follow when her mother called out.  
"PACIFICA! You came!"

Pacifica turned and her mother ran over to her, dressed in the same pale yellow robe as the rest, with a red eye symbol on the top of the hood. She was wearing no make-up and she had let her hair fall in strands.

Pacifica tried to escape her mother's touch but turned motionless when her mother wrapped her in a hug. The cloak smelled of incense and marijuana and her mother's over anxious smile (as well as the rest of the cult's obliviousness towards their own animalistic behavior) made a little more sense.

"Darling, I was afraid you wouldn't make it." Her mother stated.

Pacifica pulled away and shook her head. Her face tightened and the surprise in her eyes disappeared. "Leave me alone." She said. She couldn't remember the last time that her mother had smiled at her this much. It had to be a trick, she had to have downright lost her mind to think that reconciliation was possible now.

Her mother's face fell and she spoke in an airy, distorted tone. "But Pacifica…this is our chance…don't you get it? Once He is free, you and I will be too. We're his children…"

Pacifica couldn't hold back her rage. "You're so fucking stupid! What, did you let him into your head?! Did you let him mess around with your dreams? That _thing_ you worship is like dad except a thousand times worse!"

Her mother turned her head on her side. "You can't deny your heritage. It is in your blood…look, you even chose the same mate as By'l did." Her mother claimed as she gestured wildly to Mabel. "You share the same love."

Pacifica followed her mother's finger and realized was wrong with Mabel. Why she was smiling in the exact same way as Dipper was.

Pacifica grabbed her mother by the neck. "Bill possessed her? You knew he was going to possess her and you did _nothing!_ "

Her mother gave way beneath Pacifica's lunge, and she stared up at Pacifica with tears welling in her eyes. "Pacifica, this our chance to finally be happy. This is what we've been waiting for all this time."

Pacifica stared at her mother a moment. She thought about that empty, apathy which had hung over the woman who had birthed her. The woman who had taught her how to be cold and demanding. The woman who had drowned her sorrow in alcohol. Who had stood by while her husband beat her daughter.

Her mother had married into this thing (whatever it was). She hadn't been born with psychopathic tendencies like everyone in the Norwood family since Nathaniel. She had been trapped by it.

And when the curse was lifted, she hadn't gone running out the door. She hadn't driven far, far away.

Pacifica wondered how many times her father had beat her mother before she was born. The two of them, literally trapped in this town, tied together by something which shouldn't exist.

She turned away. "I'm sorry, Mom. I really am."

She bolted up the hardware store's staircase. When she reached the top, Candy was waiting for her with a sad look. Stan and Ford had already made it onto the roof, and Pacifica could see that they were actually wrestling with Dipper and Mabel.

"You waited for me…" Pacifica asked, surprised as she caught her breath. She was unable to stare at the rooftop any longer. The idea of what Mabel must be feeling at the moment turned her stomach.

Candy nodded and Pacifica saw what was in her hand. The last loop of wire used for moving down the line. There was only one left.

Pacifica raised her head and Candy offered the loop with a couple words. "I will not be able to help. You will."

Pacifica didn't understand how that could be true, but she had neither the time nor the compulsion to disagree. She thanked Candy, and took the loop of wire by the black plastic handles, positioned herself and leaped on the wire.

She slid towards the burning building, her eyes on the brick wall that she was rebound off. Her heart pumped harder than ever and she grit her teeth together.

Her sneakers slammed into the brick and she held back a cry of pain. She let go of one of the handles and grabbed the edge of the roof. With one yank, she hauled herself onto the roof.

As soon as she did, she heard Mabel's voice. Or Bill's voice reverberating through Mabel's vocal cords. For some reason, Mabel and Dipper spoke in unison while possessed and their voices sounded like a thousand of them each were speaking.

 _"You're too late, Pines. Retribution is already upon you."_ They screeched, each ducking blows and leaping acrobatically out of the way of every strike.

Each was holding a knife, and they had carved triangular symbols into their respective arms. They moved and fought in unison, and Pacifica was lifted from her stupor when Dipper slashed Stan across the chest. His grin widened as the old man fell and he raised the knife to finish the job.

Pacifica dove at him. He spun out of the way, having predicted her moment perfectly. He and Mabel laughed when she missed him and lost her balance. Mabel grabbed her by the collar and yanked her to her chest. Her left arm went around Pacifica and she licked the back of Pacifica's neck as she yanked her in the way of Ford's stunning laser gun.

Ford had already fired and behind his glasses, his eyes widened as the blue beam lashed toward Pacifica.

The laser didn't hurt. Instead, it just tingled. Then Pacifica lost complete control over her bodily functions and collapsed, unconscious.

 **[0]**

Candy stood at the top of the hardware store, watching as Ford fired again, Mabel this time cartwheeling out of the way. She hadn't blinked when Pacifica was knocked out and she didn't blink when Tate McGucket and Amanda stepped out from the door onto the roof, with Tate carrying a sniper rifle.

"You're not going to get in our way, are you?" Amanda asked, placing a hand on Candy's shoulder.

Candy shook her head. She still watched as Tate sat down and aimed the sniper rifle. His father had taken him hunting many times.

He would not miss. She knew that for certain.

 **[0]**

Stan swung, forcing Dipper further closer to the edge. His left hand held tight to his chest.

"Why aren't they using magic?" Stan asked, unnerved by this oddity.

Dipper and Mabel giggled and Ford answered as he fired again, forcing Mabel towards the opposite side of the roof. "Bill is using saving up. He's about to commit some powerful incantation. Also, it's not 'they', it's 'he.'"

Stan tried to wrestle the knife out of Dipper's hand as he shouted back his reply. "NOW ISN'T THE TIME FOR GRAMMAR, FORD!"

Dipper jumped out of reach of Stan's groping hands, and when he reached the edge of the roof, he darted back towards Stan. His arm whipped out and slashed at Stan's throat. Stan backed up just enough to avoid it and swung hard. His punch sent Dipper sprawling across the roof. The knife spun along the surface of the roof toward the edge of the building.

Dipper just smiled up at him, blood oozing from his jaw. He reached into his mouth and retrieved something small and white. He grinned as he held it.

 _"Thanks, Lee. I'll be sure to keep this as a souvenir of your world after I destroy it."_ Dipper and Mabel congratulated as they returned to attacking.

Guilt swept over him for a moment, and Dipper jumped at him. Stan pulled to the side and Dipper charged past him. He and Mabel smiled at one another as they switched positions and Mabel swung her knife at Stan's stomach.

He pulled back and the realized that she was almost as beaten as Dipper. Her hair was frizzy with movement and she gave him a devil's smile.

Stan ducked, swung, missed, ducked again and shoved Mabel off balance. She stumbled back, swung her arms in a windmill fashion, and then lurched back at him.

 _"You know, the way that Fiddleford died is going to be appealing when I'm done with you two brats."_ She claimed, after avoiding his attempt ot grab her.

Stan paused and that was enough for her. She threw her knife at him, and Ford slammed into him just enough that he was pushed out of the way. The knife hit Ford in the hip, and he toppled over, gritting his teeth and began gasping for breath.

Stan pulled him upright and stared at the kitchen knife embedded in his brother's side. "Ford! Ford…you have to keep awake…c'mon Ford," He pleaded as he hit his brother lightly on the side of the face to keep his eyes open. "You gotta stay awake."

Dipper and Mabel moved to either side of him. _"I guess Sixer is going to get away with a relatively painless death."_

Stan couldn't speak. He couldn't stand. He didn't raise his arms to defend himself or lash out. Ford wasn't responding. Everything was running down the drain, there was no point.

Dipper raised his knife.

A bullet whistled toward the family. It stopped in mid-air, seven feet away. Stan raised his vision and saw that Tate was standing on the rooftop of the other building, a stunned expression on his face.

Mabel and Dipper's marked hands began to glow. Dipper waved his hand in the air, and the bullet turned and whistled back toward the roof. It buried itself in Tate's skull. Mabel widened her hands and the girl who was standing beside Tate's body exploded.

Dipper and Mabel began to chant in unison. A dull roar emitted from the distance and all of Bill's worshipper's bellow (having won the battle, and now fallen to their knees in devotion), began to shake and rattle. Everyone wearing a yellow hood with Bill's signal began to implode. Their blood turned black and began to hiss out of their orifices as their skin turned dry and rotted into itself.

The blood didn't spill, or flow, however. Instead, it began to rise in the air, as the dull roar grew louder. Dipper and Mabel's marked hands touched and yellow energy ran across them. The scars across their arms glowed frostbite blue as their chanting began unrecognizable from who it was coming from.

There was an immense crashing sound, similar to a sonic boom but much, much louder. Then the moon turned red and the teeth of all the followers of Bill filled the black, curdled blood stained air. They danced, each cracking and popping like firecrackers, before splintering into a million pieces.

And then Stan recognized the booming sound. It was Bill laughing.

* * *

 **Message: Not all things are meant to be remembered. Not all things are meant to be known.**

 ** _Hey, guys! It has been a wild ride! There is only one episode left. I'm really proud that we've made it this far. I'll try to finish the next one sooner than this one. I'm really looking forward to finishing this. The catharsis is going to be fantastic._**

 ** _I am so happy that none of you figured out the SBE acronym before I got to this episode._**

 ** _By the way, Fiddleford suffered from what is called "_** ** _Hereditary Cerebral Amyloid Angiopathy."_**

 ** _Q &A_**

 _Battleangle911:_

 _I really liked this chapter. Waiting to read more._

 ** _I hope you liked this chapter as much._**

 _Coldblue **: I love your feedback and I like that you take the time to make such detailed analysis of the story. So, if you want to continue doing the Questions/Suggestions, it would be fine with me. I am unlikely to change any of what I have planned for the last chapter. However, your suggestions have caused me to change things that I had no intention of changing previously.**_

 _Tate McGuket working with Amanda Ramirez to be this possible UNLIKELY hero in all this when shit goes down was a surprised Foreshadowing and Cliffhanger in the end of an unexpected team-up/recruitment._

 ** _Yeah, I considered having them hang around longer (there was a reason for their team-up, it will be revealed in the next episode). But having Bill kill them so easily seemed like the right way to go in the moment._**

 ** _Plus we're almost at the end so their storylines would be wrapped up this episode or next._**

 _Jae/Candy:_

Jae was instrumental in taking down Tate McGucket and I wonder what abilities she has now. Now it going be something happen Jae newly inquired memories, dealing with her parents, loss of a love and having to deal with new possibilities.

 ** _The brain-fungi, in my version of the story, essentially bumps the user up the next evolutionary step. Had Candy been at full capacity when Manda used the fungal paste, she would have been smarter than Ford._**

 _Sitution71: More Mable! Still loved this chapter, though._

 ** _I'm glad that you enjoy her. I think she is one of the better characters that I've made in this series._**

 _The Keeper of Worlds: And thus, Brenda dies, Robbie re-regrows an arm, Tambry is safe, Tate is neutralized, and the twins are in danger still with Bill giving hints that Dipper fought him before. Reincarnation cycle perhaps, this Bill knows the full multiverse and has seen other defeats?_

 ** _*Evil laughter*_**


	30. S2, E12: Revelations (Series finale)

**Episode 12: Revelations (Trust No One)/The End**

* * *

 _"The depravity of man is at once the most empirically verifiable reality but at the same time the most intellectually resisted fact."― Malcolm Muggeridge_

* * *

The air tensed and the oxygen in the air grew staler. The blood moon began to expand, consuming more and more of the starless sky, as the black ooze emitting from Bill's worshippers filled the air. Dipper and Mabel began to rattle, the light in their eyes turning from yellow to blue.

In the demonic aura, they looked like they had been through hell. Both were dirty, but the bloody hole where Dipper's eye had been, was revealed. The bandage was gone and the wound brimmed with scabs and soaked the rest of his face.

Dipper's pale backside was painted red and purple from his flogging, while Mabel's neck was ringed with bruises almost as dark. In just their underwear, flighty and undernourished, the two of them looked like concentration camp victims.

The mouths opened and orbs of light floated out of their mouth and into the writhing mass of black slime. Pebbles and pine needles began to rise in the air, and an immense wind moved through the entire forest.

On the other side of the valley, where the Machine was being kept, and where all mechanical systems had recently shut down, a streak of blue light broke through the underground base and splintered the sky. Mabel and Dipper collapsed, with Bill having full exited their bodies. They were no longer needed, their souls used to power The Machine from a distance and sacrifice the willing souls.

Stan watched in horror as the two orbs of blue light culminated on the top of the roiling mass of goo. It fused into the top of the slime, and when the two orbs reached one another they froze in place. The cracks in the sky widened and red light covered the entire valley. It hardened the ooze and as the form moved toward the library, it transformed.

The blue orbs became an immense eye and the black sludge transformed into a golden suit and bowtie. The cataclysmic laughter ceased, as Bill dusted himself off.

He folded his arms and spoke in a booming voice as his sight landed on Stan.

 _"Well, well, well, CrescentMoon…it looks like we've ended up right where we were last time."_ He stated, now well over a hundred feet tall. The cracks which were normally in his head were gone and his clothes were all repaired.

Stan grabbed Ford and tried to drag him toward the stairs. Bill glanced at the stairs and they ceased to exist. Stan gaped at the place where the stairs had been, swallowed and looked back up at Bill.

 _"My friends are going to be here any second now, so I figure, before they arrive, I make a little proposition,"_ Bill stated as the cracks in the sky grew. _"You promise your soul to me, and I'll save Sixer from that bullet wound."_

"You're not going to win," Stan claimed with a dry mouth.

 _"Really? Because last time, you tried to kill me…and only succeeded in slowing me down. So, why don't you admit defeat? The only thing that could permanently stop me would be another demon and beside me and my friends, nobody else cares about your puny little planet."_ Bill lifted a finger and the library changed proportions to be tall enough that he was no longer towering over it.

He changed size, to be a little taller than Stan but otherwise human-esque. His limbs were no longer chillingly thin and distorted. His third and fourth arms were hidden. He adjusted his top hat and offered his hand.

 _"You and your family got surprisingly close to pausing my plans, so I'll offer you a deal. As the legal guardian of those two-_ " He jerked a thumb in the direction of Dipper and Mabel. The latter was starting to get up. _"-you can promise their souls to me. Do that, and you, your brother, and they will be spared from me and my friend's 'mischief.'"_

Stan glanced at Mabel's pained expression, and then down at his unconscious brother. He glanced back up to find that distant, distorted growls were filling the air.

 _"My friends are going to be here any minute, and most of them make me look positively nice,"_ Bill stated, inspecting his glove.

"What do you want with them?!" Stan demanded. "Why are we so important, if your plans are so huge?"

Bill shifted his head and then his eye shined. _"I want to bring out the best in you all. Now shake my hand and we can finalize this…"_

Mabel shook Dipper, begging him to wake up in a whisper. Every now and then she glanced up from her attempts and surveyed Bill's calm voice and annoyed movements.

Then she saw that the man who looked just like her uncle (Ford right? That had been his name? Everything hurt and her memory was hazy) was holding something. Something that was glowing and small.

Stan glanced at Mabel one last time and she shook her head. She knew that if he shook hands with Bill it would all be over, there would be no escape.

Stan mouthed "I'm sorry," and then reached out. Mabel dove forward. She grabbed the thing in Ford's hand and pointed it at Bill. His hand was shaking. She could tell that he would never make it from the expression on his face.

He glanced at her, Stan shocked, took a step back.

 _"You don't even know what that does, do you?"_ Bill asked in the most confident voice in the world.

"It has a trigger," Mabel stated, with a sneer.

Bill stopped moving toward her. Mabel pinched the trigger. She wanted to fire. With her entire body, she wanted to fire the gun, to kill this thing which had ruined their lives and taken her parents.

Then a drowsiness ran over her. She was so tired. Suddenly that was an event just how tired she was. Every muscle in her body had been overused. Her brain had been emotionally exhausted. She hadn't eaten in what felt like years. She hadn't slept either and Bill had used her body in such a way that she was sore and hungry.

Maybe if she slept for just a second…

Dipper made a pained noise.

Mabel opened her eyes and Bill was standing over her, sliding his hand across the gun. Mabel fired and a red orb of energy slammed into Bill's midsection.

He began to shake and wither, his form first cracking and then melting. He cursed her, he cursed her in a thousand tongues. His form changed color and shape as he tried to escape the quantum singularity bullet which had warped his energy into a signal timeframe.

He transformed into the most horrible things that Mabel could imagine. And then he was gone.

Well, not gone. He flickered, a yellow shadow inside the red orb which the gun held. The cracks in the sky began to fade. The red light was replaced by normal ones and the moon…

The moon was gone because the sun was coming up.

Mabel glanced at Dipper. She placed down the gun, gently, unaware that the red orb could not be broken, due to having no physical form. Then she sprinted over to Dipper and hugged him.

He didn't say a word. He didn't have to, she was doing all the talking for him. She promised that everything was alright now, that Bill was finally gone. That he would be fine.

It was more comfort for her than him, but if his tight hug was anything to go by, then he was just as shaken as her, if not more. When Pacifica stood up and asked, "What did I miss?" Mabel hugged her as well.

It wasn't all happy. They were unable to get Ford to a hospital in time. He bled out by the time they made it to the street.

Mabel hadn't thought Stan could cry so much.

Stan buried him that same day. He dropped them off at the abandoned Norwood Mansion and took Ford's corpse and shovel with him. Candy had been waiting for them at the mansion, with all the medical supplies laid out. She tended to Dipper while Mabel slept.

When Mabel awoke, Pacifica had made breakfast and tea for them. She asked Mabel about the rope burns on her neck. Mabel told her what had happened beneath the library. About what had happened to McGucket. Pacifica told Mabel about her mother and about how she doubted she would ever see her again.

Dipper stayed quiet until Stan returned.

When he did, Dipper apologized to Stan for making a deal with Bill and told his uncle that he felt he needed psychological help and that he didn't blame Stan if he hated him.

Stan embraced Dipper and told him that he would get whatever help he needed.

 **[0]**

As it turned out, Dipper wasn't the only one who went into therapy. Pacifica tried it too and found it quite helpful.

Mabel couldn't blame them. She coped by spending hours per day on her sculpting. She had an entire basement of failed statues. Her work was more unusual and morbid now. No one seemed to mind.

Candy had become distant and silent. She laughed even rarer than she talked. Simultaneously, her memory issues and anxiety were gone. She no longer argued with her parents or worried about homework. In fact, school work became so effortless for her, that at one point she offered to help Mabel with her homework.

Mabel had agreed. Along with finding mathematics frustrating, being around Candy made her feel safer and smarter. When she asked Candy about her parents, Candy stated that they "had an agreement" and left it at that.

But Dipper? Dipper had needed therapy. Aside from losing his eye, he had also become downright haunted by his experiences. He continued to have night terrors and migraines throughout the year. Slowly, over what felt like an eternity, he almost returned to his former self.

In fact, much like Candy, he had lost his ability to care about average troubles. He became more angry than scared, and he spoke only his mind. He didn't know it, but Mabel caught him sobbing, many times.

He took to drinking and eating a lot as well. The rings around his eyes faded over the months, and Mabel found that he was more interested in the things that she was interested in, then of the things he used to love. She could tell that he didn't enjoy going to parties or watching TV with her, but she could also tell that he enjoyed being close to her.

It seemed that his fear of something happening to her had not changed.

He never talked about leaving. He never talked about anything supernatural again, either. The four of them, Dipper, Pacifica, Candy, and Mabel all stuck together. Pacifica could have gone anywhere, and Candy could have gone to any college that she wanted. But they stayed put.

There wasn't a silent pact that they wouldn't leave the town. It was just they all knew that they didn't belong anywhere else. And without one another, that truth would only grow more painful.

Pacifica's mother never came back, so Stan (begrudgingly) adopted her so that he and the twins could live inside the Norwood mansion while The Shack was rebuilt and Pacifica didn't go into the foster care system. Mabel caught him giving Pacifica the stink eye, but he could sense that just like he had needed Ford and Fiddleford, his nephew and niece needed people who could relate to their experiences.

Being (technically) related now, Mabel and Pacifica's relationship became even stranger. Still, Mabel felt like she could be honest around Pacifica if no one else. And when, at the prom, Pacifica had approached Mabel with a sweaty face, and asked if she wanted to dance, Mabel had never felt more relieved. She had leaped on the blonde, causing her to laugh.

Her crush on Pacifica had not died after all the years. Mabel had firmly pushed down her feelings, afraid of what would happen if the two of them got back together.

She needed someone who understood what she had been through. Someone who could love her, because they had made the same horrible mistakes, that she had. And Pacifica was so brilliant, so kind, and so graceful.

Mabel had given up on love that summer so long ago when her brother stabbed his own eye out. But after prom, being around Pacifica had resurrected that hope.

Dipper never found someone to hold onto. As far as Mabel could tell, Bill's invasion of his body had been much, much worse than hers. She wasn't sure he'd ever be able to become intimate with someone.

When she flew back from Denver, for their twenty-fifth birthday, he was waiting at the Portland airport. He was skinnier than he had been at her and Pacifica's wedding and had a scruffy beard. He was wearing a green coat that reminded her of Wendy, dark jeans, and shoes that should have been tossed out a week ago.

His eyepatch was black and shined in the light of the evening sun which fell through the airport's tall windows. She went running to him and when he hugged her, she knew that it had been too long.

"You have an okay flight?" He asked as he took her duffel bag.

She shrugged and smirked. "No worse than your driving is going to be."

He gave her a sad look, and then turned away, rubbing his eyes. "Speak for yourself. I hear that you nearly killed our lovely governor."

Mabel rolled her eyes and tried to ignore how strange he was acting. "If you had been driving instead of me when that biker came out of nowhere, then Paz wouldn't be back at home, she'd be six feet under."

"How is that going for her anyway? Working for the Orwellian nightmare that is our government?" Dipper asked with a cheesy smile as they moved toward the nearest elevator.

"Oh, you know…Paz loves a challenge. And everyone at the state house is terrified of her, so that helps." Mabel half-joked as she called the elevator.

"She's been checking up on you through the satellites." She claimed while making "spooky" noises and moving her fingers up and down.

Dipper snapped in an exaggerated manner and pretended to be annoyed as they stepped into the empty elevator. "Dang it, I knew I shouldn't have gone skinny dipping so often."

Mabel snorted and Dipper grinned. This had been a little game of theirs, and the first person to crack up, lost.

"It's good to have you back, Alpha Twin." He taunted as they descended to the parking garage.

 **[0]**

She slept as he drove. While she had long forgotten the path to The Shack ("2.0" they used to call it), Dipper knew it better than the back of his hand. He nudged her as they came to a stop in the gravel driveway.

"Hey, wake up sleepyhead, there's a fairy over by the mailbox," Dipper claimed as Mabel sat up. He whispered the rest of his joke as he pointed at the non-existent fairy. "He looks like he's interested in you."

Mabel glared up at him from her slouched position. "You are never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"No chance," Dipper replied as he opened the car door and stepped out.

The Shop was closed, but still, Mabel was impressed by what Dipper had done with the place. Mobiles span above her head as they stepped inside the darkened room. Dipper flipped the switch, and locked the door behind them as Mabel let out a "Wow…"

There were two cash registers sitting on the long counter. The words "MYSTERY SHACK" were imprinted on a sign that hung over the center of the room.

The place was more of a toy shop than a tourist attraction, though Dipper had set up a whole room devoted towards hoaxes. Models of famous hoaxes rested on pedestals, with a plaque explaining the con's history. The rest of the shop was devoted toward selling Big Foot sandals, remote control flying saucers, and Nessie plushies. He had patented a series of miniatures, with each character representative of her, himself, Pacifica, Candy, Brenda, Stan, Robbie, or Wendy.

"You really fixed this place up, bro," Mabel stated as she inspected a jar full of bouncy, rubber eyes.

Dipper shrugged. "I had help."

On cue, a voice came from the lit storage room. "Dipper? Is that your sister?"

Mabel paused at the voice and Dipper called back. "Yup, she's returned to collect her share of our earnings. You know since I never asked to use her likeness for 'Silly Sally.'"

Mabel turned and glared at him, their old friend forgotten. "HEY! Why do I have to be Silly Sally?"

Dipper shrugged. "I'm Nervous Ned if it's any consolation." He said with a grin.

Mabel was about to state that no, it was not any consolation when Dipper's assistant manager (wearing a tag which said as much) returned from the storage room.

A red baseball cap with "MYSTERY SHACK" stitched across the front of it, cupped Candy's ponytail. She was wearing canvas shorts and a lavender blouse.

She grinned and offered her hand. "Mabel! It has been too long."

Mabel licked her lips, gripped the blonde's hand and shook it as she managed to smile. "I didn't know that you two worked together."

Dipper nodded and slung a hand around Candy's shoulders, prompting the busty woman to roll her eyes. He put on a deep southern accent as he spoke. "Without this here gal, I neva' woulda made it off the ground."

Candy pushed his arm off her shoulders. "I had to become a manager so that I could make sure my investment was paying off."

Dipper turned away and jerked a thumb in the direction of the "EMPLOYEES ONLY" door. "I've gotta go check on Stan. Have fun you two."

Mabel waited until Dipper was gone to speak. "Thanks for helping him with this. I think…well…we were afraid that The Shack would close down after Stan retired."

Candy gave a thin smile and then spoke in a grateful tone. "I'm sure you were."

She checked her watch and smiled. "Woops, gotta go pick up the kids. Make sure that Old Man Pines doesn't choke on his pie."

By the time that Mabel had turned away from watching Candy unlock the door and step out into the dusk, the "EMPLOYEES ONLY" door was opening.

Out rolled Stan, sitting in his wheelchair, with a blanket over his knees.

His whole face pulled with his smile and Mabel bent down to hug him.

"Mabel…" He said, in a cracked voice. His voice changed to rehearsed annoyance. "…what took you so long?"

She playfully struck him on the shoulder and threatened to shave his hair while he slept. Regardless of her threats, Stan wouldn't stop laughing.

 **[0]**

They all took the station wagon into down, Dipper driving as Stan asked Mabel when she and Pacifica were going to adopt a child so that he could be someone's great, great uncle before he died. She blushed, while Dipper rolled into town.

Gravity Falls had only become smaller in Mabel's absence. So many had abandoned the town so long ago, and the "2016" massacre which had killed so many, left a scar on the town spirit.

Still, there were several other families inside the Greasy Ladle when they entered. Stan called to the kitchen before they had even reached their booth.

"WE'LL HAVE THREE MCGUCKET'S! AND BE QUICK ABOUT IT!"

Mabel tried to stifle her giggling as Dipper shook his head at his Uncle's antics. Mabel didn't meet his eyes as they sat down, but she could tell that something was bothering him.

She didn't bring it up, not in front of Stan. He was busy asking Dipper why he thought there were so many hipsters in town nowadays. When Dipper responded that he didn't know why, but would investigate if Stan wanted him to, Stan told him to watch his tone.

"I still keep a revolver on my person, you know." Stan threatened while Dipper held back a snort of laughter.

Dipper suggested that they exchange presents while they waited for the food, and Mabel agreed. He gave her a doll which he had made, which looked exactly like her. She gave him a handmade necklace, with a stone at the center of it which had two dozen shark teeth glued to it.

He put it on and hugged her. She thanked him for the doll, and stowed it away in her purse, afraid of losing it.

The waitress arrived with Stan's obnoxious order, resentful that he always shouted his orders as he came in the door. Mabel remembered what a "McGucket" was, and the ones which were served to them were not the same as she remembered. Still, they were served by a different waitress and cooked by a different cook. Lazy Susan had passed away the year after she'd graduated high school.

The three of them had celebrated here, with the specialty named after their deceased friend.

A slice of blueberry pie, with nutmeg, sprinkled on the whipped cream.

Mabel ate all of hers, ignoring that the taste wasn't quite the same. Dipper took a couple bites but clearly wasn't hungry.

Stan took one bite and spat it out.

"Ugh, you just can't trust anyone these days to make a decent pie…" He stated as he shoved the pie toward the center of the table. He raised his eyes and, on seeing the glum looks on their faces, he forced a smile and tried to make small talk.

"Mabel, how are you and Paz doing?"

She grinned, happy to finally get the news off her chest. "Well…I actually wanted to tell you guys something…" She took a deep breath and her hands fell to her stomach. "…I'm pregnant."

Dipper dropped his fork. Stan sat up, his eyes alert.

She glanced at them and blushed. "I got the insemination a couple weeks ago, and I figured I'd tell you guys when I came up here to visit."

Dipper and Stan continued to look shocked for a moment before Dipper grinned. "I'm going to be an uncle! Wow! I…I…oh my god, I mean, you…you're going to be a mother."

Mabel blushed harder. "Yeah…I mean…that's the plan."

Dipper smirked and softened his tone. "You're going to make a wonderful mother."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Alright, don't get all sappy on me, bro-bro. I'm the over-emotional one, remember?"

Dipper ignored her and slid out of the booth. "I need to go get the sparkling apple cider from the back of the station wagon. I'll be right back…I'll…I'll…heh…"

He sprinted out of the restaurant, an indestructible smile on his face. Only when she had watched him exit the diner, did Mabel turn her attention to Stan. He was staring at the floor.

"What's the matter?" She asked, already knowing.

Stan gave a hollow laugh. "Pacifica…she's alright with this?"

Mabel's frown deepened and she responded in a louder voice than she intended. "Of course, she is! What kind of question is that?"

Stan shrugged. "Forget it, I shouldn't have brought it up."

Mabel leaned toward him. "No, I want to hear this. Why wouldn't Paz know about me being pregnant?"

Stan raised his eyes and sat up. "She's just like my brother, Mabel. And he never knew how to act around children. That's all. I was afraid that she might not be as enthusiastic about a child as you are. That's all."

"This is about us moving, isn't it?" Mabel asked. "You blame her for moving away and taking me with her."

Stan remained silent.

"Stan, the reason why Jae acts weird around you, is because you threatened her life…several times." Mabel continued, her arms folded. She glanced at the tabletop. "That's why she didn't come with me up here."

"She didn't come with you because her family built this place and because I'm the only one who seems to remember she has demon blood in her veins," Stan replied, his voice cutting and stifling.

Mabel stiffened. Dipper came running back over to them, with the champagne bottle and three delicate glasses. He put them down in a hurry and glanced around to make sure that no one would try to make them take the champagne outside.

"Okay," He began as he opened the champagne and began pouring the yellow fizz into the three slender cups. "I've had a lot of reasons to celebrate in my life. And every time, I've pretty much botched it up by worrying about the what ifs."

He handed a glass to Mabel and handed another to Stan. Both faked a smile for him as he poured his own glass and continued. "But not this time. All I want to say is, Mabel," He raised his glass. "I know that you are the best big sister in the world, and I know that you are going to make an even better mother."

They clinked glasses and drank. And everything was alright again. Mabel's fight with Stan had almost faded from her mind.

Then Stan paused in the middle of telling a joke about a rabbi, a minister, and a scientist. His eyes moved down to his glass and he glanced at Mabel in confusion. His hand shook, and dread filled Dipper's eyes. He took Stan's glass and guided it to the table as he promised that everything would be alright.

"Who…who is she?" Stan asked as he pointed at Mabel. His eyes swelled with tears as he stared up at his nephew, who was struggling to get him to calm down.

Alzheimer's. It had been diagnosed two years ago, but it occurred to Mabel now, that she had only be forced to deal with that diagnosis every time she visited. Dipper had to deal with it every day.

Stan knocked over his glass as he struggled to get up, forgetting about how damaged his legs were. It tipped over and split across his stomach and crotch as he let out a moan. Dipper eased him back into sitting and hushed Stan's panicked wheezes.

Mabel took her cue and exited the diner. All her frustration, all the dread which had been building inside her on the plane ride, now came loose. She wiped her eyes and took a few deep breaths as she stared at the trees which stood behind the diner. They were the same trees she had fled past almost a decade ago.

They swayed in the breeze. The branches swung out, as a sixteen-year-old Pacifica marched out from behind the branches. She was dressed in rags, with a nasty scar beneath her lower lip.

"Mabel." She said in a huff, putting a hand to her bandaged forehead. "We need to leave. Now."

Mabel scooped up a rock and lifted it above her head. "I don't know what you want, or what you are, but I have killed worse than you…so leave me alone." Her voice began to shake at the end of that threat and Pacifica frowned.

"Mabel, I don't know what he's offered you but there's no more choice. You have to…" The teen paused when Dipper came running out, calling after Mabel.

Her eyes widened and she grabbed Mabel's collar, dragging Mabel between the branches and out of sight. She held Mabel tight to the trunk of one of the pine trees as Dipper called out, growing more and more desperate by the second.

She held a hand to Mabel's mouth and slowed her breathing as Dipper passed by the trees. Then she removed her hand and stared Mabel dead in the eyes.

"I don't know what Bill has been showing you, but you have to come with me." The young Pacifica stated.

"What are you talking about?" Mabel hissed, trying to force Pacifica off her, but failing.

"Please, you need to listen to me!" The young Pacifica begged, her eyes welling. "I've been alone for so long…you're the only person that I could reach. Please…I can't rescue the others without you."

Tingle ran up Mabel's spine. She shoved Pacifica off and shook her head, backing away from the teen. The rock in her hand slid from it and smacked against the ground.

"Leave me alone." She commanded, her entire body now cold.

Dipper's hand landed on her shoulder as Pacifica's face changed from anguish to horror. "Mabel! Stan is fine, we just need-"

Dipper paused and then pulled her out from the trees. He removed a pistol from his ankle and aimed it at her. "Mabel! Get behind me! She must be a changeling."

A changeling. Right. That made sense. Why not listen to her brother? Her brother who had not had a gun at his ankle before this exact moment.

Pacifica-raised her hands and glanced at Mabel, begging her more pitifully than ever. "Please…he's gotten everyone else…he tortured Candy after she released me from my prison…please, Mabel...I don't want to be alone anymore in his world."

Dipper turned off the safety and yelled back to her. "Mabel, run to Stan…I'll handle this thing…there might be more nearby!"

 _When would he have had a chance to put that gun into its holster?_ Mabel wondered. He couldn't have carried one into the airport and it was unlikely he paused his driving to strap a gun to his ankle.

What, had he put it on while he got Stan into the elevator and downstairs to greet her?

"My dream was happy too, but when Candy came for me…I realized how little sense it all made." The younger Pacifica claimed as her voice cracked. "Everything started degrading as soon as Bill wanted me to suffer."

"MABEL! GET STAN TO THE CAR! _NOW!_ " Dipper ordered.

Her brother, who had never liked sparkling apple cider, who had never liked running The Shack, who would never work with Pacifica. Her brother, who had scars all over his arms from what she had done to him.

Unlike this stupid, blatant clone.

Angry at herself for being so stupid, Mabel slammed a rock into the back of Dipper's skull. He stumbled and then stopped. He turned and moved for her, wearing Dipper's kind of short smile.

"You couldn't just enjoy what I gave you. _No, you couldn't be happy for five seconds, could you?!"_ He screamed, Bill's voice cutting beneath every syllable. As he did so, the tree branches reached down and closed around Pacifica. She kicked and struggled as the wooden limbs lifted her off the ground turned her upside down.

Fake-Dipper shed his coat and roaches skittered out from it, all of them diving for her feet. Mabel cried out as she stomped on them, each crunching underneath her heel. Ice cold hands closed around her forearms and she recognized the waitress from inside the diner. She gave Mabel an empty look as she held her in place.

"I give you a beautiful, brilliant wife…smarter than you could ever deserve! I give you a loving, devoted brother! I give you the perfect set of twins to birth and love and raise…and what do you give me? Dissatisfaction! So, I make your life tougher…I make it realistic…and what do I get in return?"

Fake-Dipper stepped closer, his eyes now shadowed by the descending sun. Mabel kicked the waitress in the leg and pulled off her. She ducked past the clone of her twin and reached for Pacifica. Vines were by now constricting the blonde, choking the life out of her.

Fake-Dipper backhanded her with his gun and she struck the ground in a heap. _"STUPIDITY!"_

He shot her several times. It didn't kill her, she couldn't die in this place, whatever it was. Still, the pain was so great that she paused her attempts to pick herself back up. By the time that she had adjusted to the pain and started to get back up, Fake-Dipper pressed a boot to the small of her back.

"Down, you fucking brat. Down, or I kill SilverBell, here."

Mabel glanced up at Pacifica's tight face and she ceased struggling. The waitress grabbed Mabel's left arm, while someone else grabbed her right arm. It was Fake-Candy, her eyes now gleaming with the same look they got when Mabel did something she considered cute.

She grinned at Mabel as she bent the brunette's arm behind her back. _"You could have been happy. Pleasured forever and ever…"_ She stated with a pitying pout.

Fake-Dipper punched her hard in the right eye and she reeled in her captors' arms from the blow. _"Instead,"_ he continued, in the same hiss as them all. _"This place is going to become your personal hell. You'll beg and beg for me to let you wake up, but in the end…I'll just laugh."_

A chain rapped around her neck, and the waitress and Fake-Candy let go of Mabel's neck in time for her to fall backward. The chain dragged her across the muddy ground, biting into the scars on her neck and dragging her to Stan's wheelchair.

He grinned down at her, his face a skull. _"This is what you wanted…is it not?"_

They descended on her, kicking the breath out of her. Pinching her nipples until they bled. Punching her until she lost all sense of direction. Tearing out chunks of hair.

Mabel shut her eyes tight as she hacked up blood. Her mind was spinning. The chain was fused to itself, ensuring that she would never stand up again without being jerked back to the ground.

 _And if I did die…I would move on so that you and I could be together._

Dipper's words echoed in her mind. His promise that they would meet again, even if the worst came.

Mabel shut her eyes tighter than ever as the chain clenched harder than ever before.

And when she opened them, she was lying on the ash stained roof of the library.

 **[0]**

A disgusting monster lay atop Mabel when she awoke. It was half a foot long and had extended its tentacles into her nose, to reach her brain and trigger nervous reactions. It had no eyes, no head, no mouth, and was yellow-brown in coloration.

Mabel elbowed it off her half-naked body and kicked the thing when it tried to crawl toward her. All the pain in her dream was still fresh in her mind, but it was wearing off. She continued to kick the monster until it was nothing but a bloody pulp.

She put her branded palm to the surface of the roof and pushed herself up. She glanced at the mark, which had faded.

How long had she been out of it?  
She glanced around and discovered that they were inside Pacifica's bedroom room. Crystals had grown across the walls, and the door had been torn off the hinges. Otherwise, they were in the same room.

Mabel limped to the balcony and pushed past the moth-ridden curtains. She expected to see some deranged orgy of demonic power, like the madness she had endured when Bill had visited her dreams.

Instead, everything was just dead. The town, far down the mountain, was surrounded by fog. Still, Mabel could tell that there was no one there, anywhere. All the trees were leafless. The lake had been dried up, revealing a gigantic, hideous corpse.

The roads had been torn up. The side of the mountain had collapsed in a mudslide. Snow coated the dirty ground beneath her, where Pacifica's mother's garden had been trampled into ugliness. A lonely wind blew through the entire, desolate area.

A flash of red. For a split second, the landscape was burning and roamed by immense, three-legged spider monsters. For that split second, the lonely wind sounded like thousands of people screaming.

There was a choke, and Mabel was returned to reality. She to see Pacifica lying on the roof, a dozen feet away, with a reddish-gray parasite on her neck, pressing it's tendrils down her neck.

Mabel wanted to punt the monster out the balcony doorway. Instead, she eased it off, worried that otherwise, she might damage her only friend in the wasteland.

Pacifica leaped to life, lightheaded from the imagined constriction. Once oxygen was abundant in her lungs, she turned her gaze to Mabel and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry…" Pacifica muttered, her voice pained.

"It's alright," Mabel responded, her eyes gazing at the parasite which was crawling away.

When she pulled away, she only had one question.

"Why am I here? Where's Dipper?" She grew more distressed. "What did Bill do to him?"

A roar came from above, and it was followed by the sound of feet stomping above. Dust rained from the ceiling as the boards strained under the weight of a monster.

Pacifica's eyes widened and she grabbed Mabel's hand. She pulled her out the door of the bedroom, promising that she would explain everything when they were safe. She clutched Mabel's hand subconsciously, as she led the brunette out the door and down the hall.

Mabel glanced at the row of the white doors which they were passing. She glanced back from them, to Pacifica. "These doors weren't here last time I was here…"

Pacifica shook her head. "Bill made them. He changed this whole place…he made it…impossible…"

Mabel wasn't sure what that meant, but it brought a terrible, acidic taste to her mouth. Her joints still hurt, though the pain which the parasite had caused was fading quicker than expected.

There was another roar and she winced. Pacifica halted her movements, and the monster above shuffled around a couple more times, before lumbering away.

"What is that thing?" Mabel whispered she broke their hold and moved for the elevator.

"One of Bill's friends," Pacifica answered. She frowned and called out in a hiss, grabbing Mabel's hand again and dragging her away from the shaft. "Not that way, this way. To the stairs." Pacifica answered with a traumatized look. She wouldn't even look at the elevator.

Mabel glanced at it and the veil lifted. It was the one thing in the hall which wasn't degraded or covered crystals/slime. She supposed that was supposed that was a good enough clue that something was off about it. She felt stupid for not noticing that earlier.

Pacifica opened the door, and Mabel let go of her hand again. The two of them, ash stained and scarred, entered the stairway, and Mabel understood Pacifica's description. _Impossible_.

They two of them were on the second floor, but the stairs were six or seven stories tall. And they extended over a pit of blackness.

The stairs were stone, narrow, and they twisted to create formations that defied the laws of physics. They moved up, and sideways, and backtracked. To make matters worse, the lonely wind which Mabel had heard, was ten times as strong within the staircase, doing its best to send her over the edge of the stone staircase.

The steps were cracked marble. Moss covered many of them, and stalactites hung above as if the staircase was not ominous enough.

Pacifica offered her hand again. "We'll take it one step at a time…c'mon…I'll tell you everything you want to know, as we descend."

Mabel glanced over the edge of the stairs, and then back up at her companion. She nodded and took Pacifica's bandaged hand.

 **[0]**

They were half way down the steps when Bill's "friend" crashed through the door into the stairway.

Pacifica had explained that Bill had put a parasite on every single one of their friends. They were apparently a whole species, and Candy had devised and shown a way for them to share the fantasies that they generated. He had hidden them in god knows where, and then left to cause havoc elsewhere. No one had entered the valley since he and his friends had come. Candy had evaded Bill and his friends for weeks, and woken up Pacifica before being captured herself.

Mabel got the feeling that whatever dream Pacifica had experienced, it made the blonde incredibly uncomfortable to think about.

Whatever hope there was, it lay only in the note which Candy had left with Pacifica. Half of it was in a code which Pacifica had not been able to decipher.

She had just stated that she had been hiding out in the remains of the high school when the monster rampaged through the door to the stairway above. Pacifica didn't even glance up toward the sound, she just sprinted ahead. Mabel followed, too nervous about slipping to move as fast as Pacifica was.

The creature above screeched as it leaped down, bouncing off one of the staircases and landing directly above. They both pulled toward the exit, Mabel refusing to glance back at the monster.

The doorway opened onto the mansion's front hall, and the two of them sprinted toward the gray light outside the doorway.

The monster tore out behind them, and loped across the cracked marble floor, moving on both hands. Pacifica removed a can of something from her backpack and tossed it behind them. It exploded in tear gas as she and Mabel fled out the garden.

The grand doors of the Norwood mansion, each over a hundred years old, smashed open and revealed the enraged monster. Mabel glanced back at another screech. It was a twenty-foot-tall, gray-skinned monster, with only one orifice, one which resembled a keyhole.

It glanced about, clearly lacking eyes.

Pacifica crouched as they reached the edge of the property and Mabel followed her lead, still glancing back at the demon which was glancing around. Its keyhole face was oozing, and it made sounds like it was licking the air.

Mabel crawled alongside Pacifica, while the monster stomped around, screeching occasionally. Only when they were out of sight of it, did Mabel's heart slow down.

 **[0]**

Mabel stared at the piece of paper. She closed her eyes and tried to summon everything that Dipper had ever mentioned about codes.

She and Pacifica were crouched in the high school attic. Pacifica had barricaded the door and windows, using a hidden trap door to enter and exit. She had crouched some cold cereal for them to eat, from the abandoned grocery store.

She watched, her face still covered in soot. Mabel had only realized as Pacifica led her through the wasteland of the town, that she was using her old backpack to carry her supplies. She had given Mabel a rifle and kept a shotgun for herself. Mabel suspected that the guns, and the barricades, would not deter anything near Bill's level.

That meant there was something else horrible, roaming the streets.

Mabel opened her eyes and stared at the three words. Pacifica had collected every book she could find, and they were lying about. But one of the first things that Bill had done after becoming physical, was to destroy all the information he could.

"I'm sorry…" She said in a small voice as she put down the note. "I don't remember."

Pacifica's face fell. She tried to smile. "It's alright, I…we'll just have to find Dipper or Ford first."

Mabel didn't respond, she just stared at the paper. Candy had written this down. What would Candy have been thinking?

"She's not the same." Mabel murmured.

"What?" Pacifica asked.

"Her handwriting isn't the same," Mabel said, raising her face. "Something happened…while me and Dipper were kidnapped. What was it?"

Pacifica looked away. "Brenda…died. She was shot and…something happened to Candy. She became…smarter and less emotional. It's hard to explain. But she…she could predict things happening, just by making rational conclusions."

Mabel stared at Pacifica and her eyes widened.

She got up and told Pacifica that they had to go to the school halls. Pacifica was confused at first, but sure enough, in Dipper's locker, stuffed there by someone other than him, was a book about fungi. Written over the words in sharpie marker, were symbols just like the code.

And that was when Mabel realized that the three words were not in a code. They were a poorly scrawled equation. The book was filled with these same equations, all no doubt pointing toward some location or geographic area.

To understand them, you had to be at least as smart as Dipper. And that was who the note had been meant for.

Mabel's heart sank as she stared at the pages of the book. Bill had hidden Dipper, knowing what they would plan. He had left her out in the open, hoping to lure Pacifica into a trap. And Mabel doubted it would be long before he returned to the valley, to put her and Pacifica back under wraps.

She fell to the floor, tossing the book aside. "Why didn't he just kill us while he had the chance?" She asked aloud, trying not to get wet in the eyes.

Pacifica picked the book back up and asked what was wrong. "We found this, didn't we? We're on the right path." She said with an unsteady voice.

Mabel shook her head. "We're too late. He played us, Paz, he used us. Maybe if we could understand the stuff in that book…maybe if we could understand that note. But we can't. He must have known that or he would have already killed us. He just wanted us to fail!"

Pacifica glanced down at the equations on the page and the confusing descriptions.

Mabel stared at the cracked tiling beneath her sneakers. Bill had always acted as if they, all of them were insignificant. He had been right, hadn't he?

Pacifica sat down next to Mabel. "Look…we all made mistakes which…allowed this to happen. But that's not why we're here. I don't…I don't know if there's a God or anything, but I refuse to believe that you, or me, or anyone exists only to suffer. Bill chose you to make a deal with, which means that you _are_ a threat. He chose you to put a parasite on, which means that you _are_ a unique."

Mabel's eyes brightened. "Me…Me and Dipper. He gave us nicknames."

Pacifica frowned. "What?"

Mabel stood up, with a wide smile. "He gave us nicknames. We mean something important, something important where he comes from!"

The school shook, as something huge broke into the building through the gym. Mabel and Pacifica both gazed in the direction of the gym, then at one another, and then they sprinted toward the back.

Through the cafeteria, out the emergency exit, they went hopping tables and kicking over deserted plastic blue trays. There was another roar as something attacked the top of the building.

Mabel and Pacifica dove into the forest, as a woman made of purple fire and a monster made of plates of painted glass, attacked the high school, the former hissing as she tossed balls of magma inside.

The school was flaming rubble by the time that Mabel and Pacifica had entered the forest.

 **[0]**

The Journal was burnt. That meant the only knowledge left about Bill, written by The Author, by Mabel's great-uncle, was in one place. One place that must have been designed to withstand Bill's reach.

The Bunker.

Mabel had never been told its location. She and Pacifica used an incantation to locate it. Climbing down the ladder, into the underground tunnels was. It was not just physically demanding, reaching the door to the inside. It was also terrifying.

The last thing which had come out of the bunker had been a rampaging shapeshifter, which had been nearly unstoppable. It was unlikely there were no other dangerous creations, down beneath the walls of steel.

"1984" was the code. Mabel had heard Dipper spit-balling his ideas regarding The Journal enough to know that a re-appearing date was 1984.

Pacifica and she took a brief stop from their sacred mission to eat some of the packaged food which remained underground. They were both ravenous, the parasite had undernourished Mabel, and Pacifica had been on the edge of starvation for weeks.

As they ate, Mabel realized that this meant Ford had known this was all going to happen. He had been fully aware of the eventuality of the apocalypse.

Both he and McGucket must have done something to spur it on.

The screen in the downstairs area of the bunker had several recordings. One of which, was labeled "DESTINY – ZODIAC." When Mabel turned on the tape, a recording took up the entire screen. It was Ford. Mabel had only seen him while possessed by Bill and half-conscious. But she could recognize him because he looked a terrible lot like her father.

He was in his twenties, crouched in the darkness and clutching the camera so that it focused on his face. His eyes were haunted, and his hands were trembling.

 _"Listen to me, Leland."_ Ford's voice was monotone and empty. _"When you find this tape, you need…you need to look at the chart I put underneath the computer desk. It will help you find them. The…uh…the others. I…I've built a machine…made to restore things. It was supposed to erase wounds and despoil food…that type of thing. Turn back the clock on certain items."_

He lowered his face, and took a shallow breath and then returned his eyes to the screen. _"I let something in. The thing that has been in my head all this time. William. I let it in and I know I'm not safe…no one is safe. It's going to eat us alive…if we don't stop it first."_

He shook his head and looked away. _"There's another being of pure energy. It wants to stop William. It wants to restore everything to order. It made a system of containing demonic power…people are metaphysically marked. Every time that one dies, the mark passes on to someone else."_ He climbed to his feet, the camera blurring for a moment. There was something behind him, something huge and glowing. Something that felt familiar. _"Only demons can identify them by these marks, but I have invented a device which will help track them down for you. It is next to the chart."_

Mabel slid her hand beneath the desk and removed the orb.

 _"Please, Lee…when we've destroyed this son of a bitch, please kill me."_ He looked straight at the camera. _"He's turning me into him. He's turning me into something awful and I…I can't live with it, knowing that I'm going to turn into a monster."_

The transmission cut off and Mabel stared at the blue screen, which awaited input. She lowered her eyes to the metal orb and pressed the slid incline in the shiny metal.

The machine sparked to life and lifted out of her hands. It hovered, just above Pacifica's head as it's lights turned from green to yellow to green again. It began to blip and beep and then it rattled around.

 _"Two Zodiac incarnations detected in STANFORD PINES'S BUNKER. They are ShootingStar and SilverBell. One, CoyFish detected near pocket dimension. All other eight detected in a pocket dimension."_ The orb stated in an 80's computer voice as it calmed.

Mabel stood and walked up to the orb. She leaned toward Pacifica. "You must be the second one. Bill always calls me Shootingstar."

Pacifica looked a little pale, but she said nothing. She recognized something in the nickname but chose not to share it.

"Lead us to the pocket dimension," Mabel ordered, in a hoarse voice.

The orb jittered and its lights turned from green to yellow. Then it zipped in the direction of the bunker's exit. Mabel shared a glance with Pacifica before they followed.

 **[0]**

The sun had gone down by the time they reached their destination. The orb led them through miles of forest and came to a stop at the gates of what had once been a military complex. The gate, once guarded and electrified had been run over in several places. In other places. The vines had climbed over it. And the generator for the facility was empty.

Somehow, the inside of the facility was worse. It was dark, and the floor was wet. As far as Mabel could tell the place was entirely abandoned.

That idea disappeared when she ran into the last person that she expected to see.

Agent Lockhart was curled up in the corner of an office, muttering to himself.

She glanced around the office and then turned her flashlight toward him. "Jacob? Can you hear me?"

He raised his head and gave her the same vacant stare that McGucket had a million times a day. He was bleeding in multiple places. A deer carcass, she now saw, lay at his feet.

The orb sped over to him and yellow light shone out of it. It covered him and turned green.

 _"CoyFish detected. Pocket Dimension nearby."_ The machine stated as Agent Lockhart moved to his knees and ran his hand along the orb.

He mouthed the words "pretty."

"Can you help us?" Pacifica asked, rather doubtful.

He glanced up at her and nodded. His childlike wonder disappeared and he stood up, saluting. "Yes. Right, this way."

He stepped past them and marched toward the staircase.

Mabel shared a look with Pacifica, and they followed him. He led them down stair after stair, and when Mabel asked what had happened to what she now recognized as the place she'd been taken during Stan's arrest, Lockhart sniffed.

"Just cog's in a machine. Machine stopped working. I'm the only one left." He stated, his eyes dead ahead. "Just me and The Machine."

"The Machine?" Pacifica asked her gun at the ready. She didn't know what might set the clearly unstable agent.

Lockhart nodded and whispered his answer. "Needs to be seen to be believed."

He led them into a darkened room, past the safety warnings, past the abandoned posts. And in the center of the testing floor, in the largest room, was The Machine.

It was a metal pyramid. In the middle of it was a hole, that glowed white. Buttons and levers sat on the side of The Machine. The whole room trembled along with the contraption.

Electricity crackled out of the white light and coursed along the rim of the center. The metal was foreign, and it shined almost purple in the light of the center, which was the only one in the room. The wind hissed into the center, pulling them towards it. Mabel watched a strip of a paper slide into the light and disappear onto the other side.

The orb zoomed into the light, and at first, Mabel thought that their guide had been disintegrated. Then it called from the other side.

 _"Zodiac incarnations, two hundred yards ahead."_

Mabel glanced at Pacifica. Lockhart was still standing to attention. She moved closer to the portal, careful not to let the rushing air get the better of her, and cupped her mouth. She called out, hearing horrible rumblings from the other side of the portal.

"Is it safe for human beings in there?" She asked, her arms swinging wildly to prevent her from losing her balance.

 _"Zodiac incarnations, two hundred yards ahead."_ The robot repeated.

Mabel sighed. She considered it and was about to leap in when Pacifica pushed Lockhart into the portal. He tensed but did not resist.

Mabel glared at Pacifica, who folded her arms, not showing the least remorse.

Lockhart called back. "All clear ma'am. Society of Blind Eye forces, ready to move in."

Pacifica smiled. "See, I knew he'd be okay."

Mabel rolled her eyes and marched into the blinding whiteness. When the light cleared, she discovered that the pocket dimension was worse than she ever could have imagined.

 **[0]**

The sun was blood red, the sky was green, and instead of clouds, hills of flesh, with dangling arms and legs hovered miles above. The ground was split into islands, connected by bridges, and each island was surrounded by fog.

In that fog, Mabel saw the shadows of creatures that dwarfed whales. She saw their incredibly long bodies rush through the gaseous sea.

Lockhart pointed his gun nervously at anything that moved. Mabel wasn't sure that it was loaded but knew it wouldn't be useful. The portal had dropped them onto an island two islands from the largest landmass, on which there stood an obsidian palace, with statues of Bill standing guard out front. A tree hung over, with chartreuse leaves that were razor sharp and pinkish-purple bark.

The tree's roots looked more like tentacles than anything else, and the longer that Mabel looked at the "plant" the more she distrusted it. She removed the gun which they had gotten from Ford's bunker. Before leaving, she and Pacifica had searched it for any other useful tech and discovered a laser-rifle, a shotgun which fired sonic bursts, and a pair of boots with rocket boosters.

She tapped Lockhart on the shoulder and handed him the laser rifle. "Don't touch anything." She ordered.

He nodded and followed them off the island and onto the next. The grass moved without any prompt from wind and the boulder on the corner of the island had an eye. A singular, human eye that watched them as they moved across the unsettling landscape. They were almost across the bridge, nearing the palace when one of the monsters in the sea of fog got hungry.

It dove up, with the girth of a bus, and one of its heads snapped at them. Mabel pulled Pacifica back in time, and the monster ended up crushing the orb between its teeth.

Its body curled over the bridge, its dark red scales all glinting as it came up from behind and dove at Lockhart. He calmly fired at its mouth (it had no other orifices) and didn't flinch when yellow blood spilled out of it, staining his dirty suit. It hissed and disappeared bellow.

 _"Are you playing with the Orgglenogs, now?"_

Mabel glanced toward the sound of the voice and found Bill floating over them. He was two stories tall and holding his cane. He wore a white suit, and his top hat was adorned with red jewels. He wore a necklace of teeth.

His eye was depicting the cosmos.

Both Pacifica and Lockhart aimed for him.

He tittered. _"Come now, put down your weapons and I'll put you both in a nice comma. Doesn't that sound fun? Better than pointing BB guns at a rhino, don't you think?"_

Mabel leaned toward Pacifica. "I'll distract him, you and Lockhart find the others."

Pacifica didn't have time to disagree. Mabel pulled the sonic shotgun out of the blonde's hands and turned on her rocket boots. She fired at Bill as she leaped into the air.

He sighed. _"Not smart at all, ShootingStar."_

He grew a dozen extra arms and coal hands filled the air, groping and swiping. Mabel fired again, this time hitting him in the eye. He cursed in another language, and when his eye re-opened it was red.

He fired a blast through the air, that turned with every one of her movements, and followed her as she spun in circles. Navigating with the boots was hard enough, but with the pressing heat of the blast pressing down on her, Mabel could stay aloft much longer.

She glanced down and saw Lockhart and Pacifica running inside, Lockhart with his sonic shotgun aimed at Bill. A monster, as big as Bill, appeared at the front of the palace.

It had crystal balls for eyes and dark green skin. It sneered at their approach and raised a fist to crush them. Mabel dove toward the demon, surprising it. When she pulled away, the blast scorched the creature. It's crystal eyes cracked and Mabel sped off while Pacifica and Lockhart ran inside.

 _"Go get them, you idiot!"_ Bill ordered. He turned back toward Mabel and made himself smaller. He zoomed toward her hands outstretched.

Mabel ducked out of the way and his leg extended itself in time to smack against her forehead. She spiraled out of control, and Bill zoomed again. He grabbed her by her sweater and tossed her into the palace.

She smacked against the floor of the palace and rolled. She turned her boots off and wiped the blood from her split lip as she stood up. He cordially walked toward her, illuminated by the massive stained glass windows which depicted him.

The inside of the palace was cold and pillars of obsidian filled it.

 _"We're at a stalemate, kiddo. You can't kill me, and if I kill you, I must track down the next person who gets Xexel's mark. So, just surrender."_ Bill instructed.

Mabel's eyes narrowed. "After all this time, you really don't understand human's at all, do you?"

Bill shrugged. _"I don't need to. With enough torture, you always come around to my way of thinking."_

He swiped his hand and a blast of cold air flew at her. Mabel ducked behind a pillar and the frigid air rushed past and struck the wall straight ahead.

Bill's left hand turned into a blade and he swung it through the pillar she was hiding behind. It made a horrible sound as it turned and fell. Again, Mabel dove out of the way and aimed her pistol at him.

She fired three times as he calmly walked toward her.

 _"You can't win."_ He claimed as he made the bullets disintegrate. _"And there are worst ways to exist then inside one of my paradises."_

Mabel shook her head. "No…that is the worst. You can turn me into a rock or a frog or something. But that…where everything was perfect. Nobody wants that, and you didn't understand how to make it imperfect."

Bill shrugged against and swiped his hand. This time, a thousand vipers materialized on the ground in front of him and crawled toward Mabel.

 _"I could have put you in your ultimate nightmare. I could have ruined your life."_

Mabel turned on her boots and swung through the air. She fired again, and Bill didn't even bother to stop these bullets. They pinged off him as if he were stone.

Bill's hands transformed into tentacles and filled the air. _"Really? Because none of your friend or family have woken up. They have all been perfectly happy with the fantasy that I put them in."_

Mable tried to evade the flailing flesh, but they grabbed her legs, spun her and then slammed her into one of the windows. The glass cracked but did not shatter, as Bill rose in height and stared into her mind.

 _"Your uncles are happy. Finally, they get to spend some time together, away from danger. In fact, they get to spend eternity, because I can't have any of you dying on me."_ Bill claimed as he sucked the air out of her lungs. His eye shone a reflection of child versions of Stan and Ford, playing on the beach.

She gagged, struggling to recover. Something began to move beneath the chest of Bill's suit.

 _"BrokenHeart gets his sister back."_ Robbie was holding hands with Tambry, while a little girl skipped along ahead. _"QuestionMark gets normal parents and a non-dead girlfriend."_ Candy kissed Brenda, the two of them at the altar.

Bill sucked the air out again, and Mabel became lightheaded. The tentacles moved up from her legs and circled her stomach.

He wasn't trying to kill her, he was trying to force her unconscious. So, that he could put a parasite on her.

Speak of the devil, one of them crawled out from beneath his suit and moved onto his arm.

 _"Your brother finally gets to fuck you."_ Mabel's eyes widened as Bill's eye began to reflect Dipper's paradise. It was Dipper, lying next to the fake version of her. The two of them were in bed and half naked.

 _"It would seem to me,"_ Commented Bill. _"That you are trying to tear everyone away from their happy ending, in a faulty gambit. What do they have if they defeat me? Your world is still in ruins, your lives are irreparably damaged. There's no closure from what you've all seen. They are all freaks…just like me. They belong here."_

The parasite crawled across his arm, it's tendrils extending, ready to go up Mabel's nose and connect to her brain.

 _"But you…you aren't a freak, are you ShootingStar?"_ Bill sucked the breath again, and his tentacles began to constrict. _"You're just a self-conscious, possessive, brat who doesn't want to grow up. And you are_ selfishly _trying to take away everyone's happiness, when you know full well there's no way you'll all survive."_

Mabel lifted her boots and turned the rocket boosters onto full power. The flame scorched Bill in the eye. He screeched and Mabel slid to the floor. She ran toward the furthest hall, Bill cursing again behind her.

The ground lifted just before she went out of sight and she was tossed to the ground. Spikes fell from the ceiling, and Mabel closed her eyes. When she opened them, Bill was standing over her, burning red. The spikes were pinning her down but had not done more than scratch her.

Bill cracked his knuckles. _"We're just going to have to start pulling out your teeth until you either become more co-operative or you fall unconscious."_

He leaned down his voice hissing in the back of her mind. **"If we want to, we can use a magnet to slowly pull back your braces. That would be a fun two hours."**

A laser struck Bill in the side. He turned smoke curling up from the patch of him which had been struck. Mabel twisted her head and saw that Pacifica had picked up Mabel's fallen weapon.

She glared at him and fired twice more. The bolts hissed when they struck Bill, and without a word, he began marching toward her.

 _"Stupid little piggy…"_ He muttered as he approached Pacifica. The laser gun jammed, and she desperately struck it, over and over, as he closed the distance. Mabel tugged back and forth on the crystals and managed to get one arm loose by shredding the sleeve. She reached over and tore at the fabric restraining her other arm.

 **"Stupid little cunt…"** Bill mutter as he began to glow from red to white.

The gun unjammed and Pacifica fired a volley of mosquito bites at him. He paused, closing his eye and sighing.

 _"Shouldn't have done that."_ He stated, as his eye re-opened. It was pure black now. His body grew, his arms became skeletal. His suit shredded and his top hat transformed into an immense, white tentacle. His head detached from his body and his body detached from his waist.

Pacifica started to run, but the ground beneath her sucked her up to her waist. Bill laughed at her attempts, his voice now incredibly deep.

His trunk turned into a diamond shape and his waist folded into itself to create a square. Black flesh strung from one body part to another and his head grew three extra eyes. Teeth slid out over his eyes and his eyes split open to allow a tentacle to slide out and act like a tongue.

He let out a screech that tore through the entire dimension and summoned all his allies. They appeared to him, one after another. The keyhole face, the woman made of fire, the creature with the crystal ball eyes. One had no face and a rectangular head with a tentacle extending out of it. Another was made entirely out of mouths.

 **"SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT."** He insisted as his nine hands grabbed her and brought her up to his middle mouth. Orbs of blue fire generated formations around him as he licked Pacifica with his tongue. She screamed as the acidic saliva covered half her face.

Mabel ran towards the eldritch being which Bill had now fully transformed into. She was half-way there when Bill made a "hmm" noise (his voice was like the hum of a thousand wasps), and all his fingers extended to be twice as long.

 _"For that, I'm going to have to kill you,"_ Bill stated, as his fingers tore through Pacifica's body before retracting and dropping her to the ground.

Mabel screamed. Bill didn't stop her from running up to Pacifica's body, instead, he laughed with all his mouths, a distorted sound. His friends joined in as Mabel brushed the hair out of Pacifica's face and cradled her head in her lap.

Pacifica smiled. "It's okay Mabes…I…" She winced.

There were dozens of wounds across her chest and stomach. Blood trickled out of her mouth.

"It's…it's…"

Mabel wiped the tears from her eyes and saw that both she and Pacifica were glowing. Glowing blue.

Ford stepped out from the hall, followed by seven others. Dipper, Candy, Robbie, Lockhart, Stan, Tambry, and Wendy's little brother, Eddie. They all had marks, indicating that Lockhart had used physical strength to break them free.

The blue light filled the air and circled them all. Ford was speaking. He was repeating the same word over again.

And now symbols were appearing, in front of each of them. Bill was screaming " **NO! NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!"**

He swung a hand at Ford, and his fingers began to unravel. The bones peeled back and snapped. He screamed, for the first time since Mabel had met the demon, in real agony.

Ford's eyes lit up and then Mabel's eyes lit up.

Then she could feel Xexel in her veins. She could feel his demand for order impeding on all. Bill and his friends, they were just delinquents to other demons. Kids who threw rocks at squirrels and dogs.

And Ford's words suddenly made sense.

 _CrescentMoon: You shall change the tides wherever you roam. SixFingers: You shall construct the weapons of the gods. SnowFlake: You shall turn individuality into the community._

 _BrokenHeart: You shall reform that which is shattered. CoyFish: You shall make forgotten what is too dangerous to be remembered._ _QuestionMark: You shall turn discoveries into genius._ _InfinitySign: You shall laugh in the face of mortality._

 _SilverBell: You shall chime regardless of whether it is silent._

Mabel lowered her gaze. Pacifica looked beautiful in the swirling light.

 _PineTree: You shall grow to become essential to harmony and chaos._

Mabel moved her eyes to Dipper. He was smiling. Even covered in dirt and scarred across his entire body, he was smiling.

 _ShootingStar: You shall shine brightly even as you burn._

For once in Mabel's life, everything in the entire universe just felt in tune. And then she could feel everyone who had come before her. Everyone else who had failed their duty.

Quentin Trimble was standing nearby, his gun holstered. Marissa Pines, her grandmother, was watching Stan and Ford with a regretful look on her face. Her great, great grandmother, Marcella Pines, was staring at Bill with a vengeful look in her eyes. Melody Gage, Gideon's sister, was saying goodbye to him as his ghost disintegrated alongside Bill and his companions. Isabella McGucket crouched next to Mabel and put a hand on Pacifica. The hand clearly wasn't felt, all these people were translucent.

She mouthed the words "let go."

And Mabel did.

 **[0]**

The sky was clear. It was snowing. The pocket dimension, along with everything in it, had disappeared. The rubble remained. So too, did the dead trees.

Mabel sat down on a rotting bench, after testing it first. They had just buried Pacifica's body.

More tears. She didn't know if she could handle it if she spent another moment in this constant gloom. She had placed a little flower on the grave.

Robbie and Tambry had left as soon as Bill and his buddies had become trapped in the little cube that Ford held. She didn't blame them.

Lockhart had offered to bring Eddie to his family, and no one had argued with him. His mind, it appeared, had been mostly restored to its former glory.

Stan and Ford had dug the grave. Now, they were cracking jokes and figuring out where they should find shelter for the night. Candy was listening to the song of the birds that sat on a drooping telephone wire.

Dipper sat down beside her. He was dressed in the coat Stan had given him and a pair of torn jeans. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Are you…okay?" He asked his hands in his pockets.

Mabel nodded. Dipper sighed.

"I killed Wendy."

Mabel glanced up and he scratched Bill's mark. It was faded, but it was still there. Just like hers was still there.

"I killed Wendy." Dipper repeated, in a slow voice. "I meant to kill the shapeshifter, but I messed up and…I ended up killing her. That's why I took the deal with Bill. I didn't trust myself…or anybody else. I was afraid of what you guys were going to do when you found out, I was afraid I might hurt someone else. I…I was just…paranoid. Afraid of everything."

He moved his eyes to her. "I just thought, I would tell you. Since so many people…got hurt…I figured you should know that it's my fault."

Mabel took a deep breath. No more secrets. It was time to let go.

"You like me, don't you?" Mabel whispered, unsure of how else to say it.

Dipper's eyes widened. He shook his head, his face going pale. "Mabel, I…I don't…"

"Dipper." Mabel said in a small voice. "It's okay. I'm not going to abandon you because you have hormones."

Dipper looked away and took a shallow breath. "Since we came here. I don't know why it happened…I…I've tried everything to get rid of it, I…I…"

Mabel leaned over and hugged Dipper. And despite the cold, both were warm.

"I don't want to ever lose you." She whispered. "But if being around me makes you hate yourself, then maybe we need to take a break, Dipper."

He shook his head, his entire body trembling.

"It's okay. It was just a suggestion." Mabel responded. It was the first time that she felt like the big sister she always joked about being.

He needed her to be an adult in this situation.

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" He asked in a small voice.

Mabel shook her head as she broke their hug.

"It will be our little secret." She stated, her hands still on his arms.

Dipper wiped his nose and nodded, giving her a cheesy smile.

And that was the last time they talked about it.

 **[0]**

Bill had done a lot of damage to the world, but hadn't caused anything that had changed people's perception of the universe. He _had_ encouraged mass suicides, burned several buildings, and caused a brief, almost global depression. Cults devoted to him had popped up across the world, as he'd spread his influence through TV and the internet. But he hadn't been powerful to summon his friends and himself as physical beings, anywhere other than Gravity Falls.

Lockhart said that it was his job to heal the wounds created. set up an apartment for them to stay in until Stan could collect the fire insurance and find a new house for them. Apparently, Lockhart had been made director of the new SBE, and intended to do a better job than his predecessor. He came by to check on them and to forcefully ask Ford to dismantle The Machine and help him destroy the parts.

Ford had promised he would be ready to do it the next day.

Ford was not the person who Dipper expected. He was much quieter, and more reserved then the adventurer he had pictured having written The Journal. But Dipper was happy with everything that Ford taught him about mechanics and biology.

Dipper had asked if Ford might consider one day, helping Dipper write a book about the things in Gravity Falls. Ford had smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Sure thing, bud. We've got all the time in the world." He had stated as they stood out on the fire escape.

It was cramped, with all four of them in the small apartment, especially after Ford used a device to find Waddles and return him to Mabel. But it was a warm place. Stan was more talkative than ever, which made up for Ford's

Stan and Ford had a hundred stories about how each other got into troubles. And Mabel was at Dipper's side. That was good enough for him.

Candy's parents had cried when she had returned to them. They had been searching for weeks and had been on the edge of giving up. Candy had told Mabel over the phone that things were going to change between her and her parents.

Dipper figured that was a good idea.

Robbie and Dipper still talked over the phone. Stan claimed that Robbie had sold them out to the Brotherhood. And Dipper could tell that with every conversation, Robbie was desperate that they all were fine, that he hadn't caused them unhealable pain.

He could tell that none of the rest of them, least of all perhaps Mabel was willing to forgive the man. But he could deal with that.

How could he not forgive Robbie, when he had caused so much pain by his own mistakes?

It was only on his second night in the room, that Dipper received a visitor and he finally realized something. Robbie wasn't afraid that he had done too much damage to be repaired.

He was afraid that the fight wasn't over.

 **[0]**

 _"Are you Dipper Pines?"_

Dipper was standing in a forest of elms. He was wearing his old vest and shirt. And his cap. He didn't know where he had lost his cap but he was wearing it now.

"Yes." He answered, to the glowing orb.

 _"Bill Cipher promised immense knowledge in return for possession of your body. The Herald of Xexel will now fulfill that deal by offering you the answers to your most pressing concerns."_ The Herald stated. _"Information will trickle so that you do not suffer a stroke."_

Before Dipper could protest, the orb glowed brighter than ever.

And then Dipper was standing in a palace, exactly like the one Bill had put him in. Except it was smaller. Mabel was next to him. She was dressed in her favorite sweater and she was begging him not to do something. Ford was on his knees, his hand in his eyes.

And Stan, Stan was on his knees too. His eyes had rolled into the back of his skull.

Dipper glanced in his hand and saw that he was holding a gun.

He raised it and fired. And Ford's blood stained the window as he fell over. Dipper, shaking put down the gun and turned toward Mabel, to tell her that it had to be done.

But she was fading. She was fading into the blackness. He reached out for her, but her arms were too short.

And then it was just him, Ford, the gun, the window, and Stan's corpse.

And the blood. The blood would never wash off.

Dipper awoke with a start. His mind was going a mile a minute, information was filtering into his brain. He knew everything about the objects in front of him. When the TV had been made, who had put up the wallpaper, where the carpeting had been manufactured. He knew the name of the doll belonging to the daughter of the person who helped manufacture the fan.

He got up and stumbled to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and when he looked back at his reflection, he saw a child, staring back.

He jumped, and the little boy was gone.

Dipper put a hand to his chest and marched back to bed. He needed sleep. Sleep would be beautiful and liberating. Sleep would clear up all of this.

He collapsed on the bed, and Mabel was telling him to wake up.

"C'mon, Dipper, Stan's going to show us the houses he thinks that we'll like."

Dipper nodded and gave a groggy croak. "Sure, Mabel," He slurred. "Just a second."

She nodded and moved away. As she did, Dipper heard her thoughts. _I hope he isn't having more nightmares. I should ask Stan if there's any medicine he can take to sleep better._

He shuddered, grabbed some clothes from his luggage, and headed for the bathroom to get dressed. He spent more than a minute staring at his own reflection, trying to understand why it felt like something was missing.

 **[0]**

Robbie slid a second quarter into the machine and dialed the number again. No response.

He turned away, his heart pounding a million miles per second.

"Robbie, are you alright?" Tambry asked from the car. She was filling it up with gas.

He nodded and looked away. He needed to contact them. He needed to before it was too late.

"Robbie, what's going on?" She asked, with a hard glare.  
He turned and tried to smile. "Nothing is, I'm just frustrated because I can't get a hold of someone."

"Robbie, they have a mob boss and a super scientist watching over them. I'm sure that they are fine. Now, can we please leave?" She asked, her voice beginning to shake.

Robbie shook his head. "I just need to try one more time, then we can-"  
"ROBBIE! STOP THIS!" Tambry demanded as she got out of the car. She marched over to him and slammed the phone back into the receiver, right as he had gotten a hold of operator.

He scowled at her. "Tambry, it'll only take five seconds!"

"No! You need to stop this obsession." Tambry demanded, putting her hands to her sides in fists. "For god sakes, haven't you done enough. Haven't both of us lost enough?" Robbie moved his attention to the pavement. "Why do we still have to do this? Why do you have to be the one throws yourself in danger?"

Robbie spoke in a calm, infuriatingly sure voice. "Cathy told me. She _warned_ me about this. They need to know."

Tambry grew still. "So, this is about your sister dying then?" She said in a voice that dared him to answer.

He shook his head, finally starting to return her anger. "No! This is about keeping Dipper and Mabel safe. That's what this is about!"

Tambry leaned up to shout directly into his face. "No, this about you _hating yourself, Robbie_!"

He swallowed, unable to respond. Someone else who was pumping their car, looked up and watched the scene that they were making.

Tambry shook her head and turned away. "I can't keep saving you from your own death wish. Either get in this car, or call your friends. But I am not waiting any longer for you to realize that there's something wrong with this type of behavior."

Robbie watched her climb into the car. He stared at her, closed his eyes, and then walked inside the store to get more quarters.

By the time, he had returned, Tambry was gone.

 **[0]**

Mabel loved the second house more than the first. It was big and there was a room where she could practice her sculpting. There was a library where Dipper and Ford could read.

Stan was busy bouncing his complaints off the realtor. But Dipper, Dipper was distracted. He was suffering a series of migraines, which had not let up after he had taken medicine and Mabel was starting to become concerned.

Dipper removed the phone from his pocket, winced and then handed it to Mabel, unable to have a conversation now. He told her he was going to go wait in the car.

"Hello, who's calling please?" She asked as she held the phone to her ear and watched her brother's retreat. She hoped that the call came from a wrong number, so that she could hang up quick and go tell Stan that something was going on with Dipper.

 _"Mabel? Where's Dipper?"_

"He's busy." She stated, trying not to growl at him. "Look, Robbie, now really isn't a good time, I need to-"

 _"Please…Mabel just tell me if Ford has been acting strange."_

Mabel wasn't sure how to answer. Ford's "normal" was everyone else's strange. She finally said. "No…why?"

 _"He wrote the journal's, right?"_

"Yeah," Mabel replied, beginning to feel sick.

 _"Did I tell you about my dream? With Christy?"_

Mabel told him, that no he hadn't. Before she could hang up on him, he launched into his story.

 _"After I nearly died…Christy came to me. My sister…she…she told me that a boy with a red book was going to destroy the world. At first I thought it was Dipper or Gideon…but I think…I think she meant Ford."_

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Robbie, I don't have time for this. Ford is not going to destroy the world, he's the person who helped us trap Bill."

 _"But we never figured out how he came back, did we? He just showed up, out of the blue, right when we needed him. And he knew that Bill was going to use you two guys to become…the way he did…didn't he? But he didn't prioritize finding you two. He was the person who claimed that you two were at the lake, in fact. For someone as smart as he supposedly is, isn't that a little suspicious?"_

Mabel frowned. "Well…I don't…look, I'm sure there's a logical explanation for all of this."

 _"But-"_

She grew angry. "Look, I appreciate how much you suddenly care about us. But I really don't appreciate you calling me to insult my family members. I think I would know-"

Dipper rushed out of the car and sprinted into the woods. Mabel called after him, closing the phone and sliding it into her pocket. Stan looked up from talking with the realtor and his eyes narrowed. He ran after her, telling her to be careful as she darted between the trees.

 **[0]**

Lockhart stepped aside as he asked Ford how you turned off The Machine.

"Oh, just this button over here." Ford gestured. He reached for it, paused and then struck a yellow button.

The Machine bolted to life and Ford grinned as he ran his hand through the portal. When he removed his hand, it was unscathed. He took a step back.

Lockhart frowned. "Mr. Pines…is there a problem?"

Ford let out a deep breath and spoke in an amused, but sad voice. "Oh, we're almost done. There's one last bit of business I have to get done."

Lockhart tensed. "What?"

Ford moved to the side and brought a finger to his mouth. "Shhhhh…here it comes…"

Out, from the portal, stretched a pale gray arm. The four-fingered palm opened and Ford removed the box which he had trapped the demons in. He reached to put the box in the open palm and the guards fired at him.

The bullets paused in the air, inches from him and the arm. Then they fell to the floor. Ford's smile widened, one of his hands on his belt. On the little, glowing device that sat on his belt and projected a nearly invisible field of electromagnetism.

"Relax fellas. This thing is one of the good guys." He stated as he put the box in its hand.

The entire compound began to shake.

 **[0]**

All the words Dipper saw, they were turned into scribbles before he got a second to look at them. The sky was red. The trees had eyes that followed him.

And he could hear Bill whispering in his ear. _I should have known CrescentMoon would never have the guts to do me in. You on the other hand…_

Wendy was up ahead, sitting on her desk, swinging her feet back and forth. She was smiling at him and asking if he wanted to go to this abandoned mall with her and her friends.

Fiddleford was introducing himself, saying something about fingers. Introducing himself, dressed in a suit, like he had been when they first met.

When they first met. On the edge of the lake. He had told them stories about the Gobblewonker. When Dipper was too small to reach up to Stan's waist.

Too small to remember. Had he been too small, or had someone messed with his head. Had someone planted or removed experiences?

Experience. He had caught on quick, hadn't he? For someone who had never seen faeries, he and Mabel had escaped from them with surprising ease. How had Mabel learned to climb like she had, using just two needles?

The needles which she had used to make all her sweaters. Who had taught her that? Their distant and overbearing parents? Their grandmother?

Dipper fell to the forest floor, his fingers digging into his hair. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he knew that once he saw it, it would all make sense.

He looked up and saw Bill standing behind Stan's corpse.

 _I am a being of pure energy. You can't kill me. I'm going to be around forever, if only in your head._

Ford putting a hand around his shoulders. "Matter can't be destroyed or created. That means even after we die Dipper…we don't cease to be. We just continue in a different way."

Ford wasn't next to him. Ford was talking to a tiny, distressed Dipper who had thought too much about death. They were sitting on the back porch, watching the rain fall.

Eight-year-old Dipper had asked if death was a long time away.

The door was opening, and someone was smiling at him.

"Uhh…Mr. Pines, Stan wants to see you."

Ford had smiled and ruffled Dipper's hair. "Sure thing, bud. We've got all the time in the world."

That was a strange thing to say. Dipper and Ford had first met, with Dipper attacking Ford, possessed by Bill. Why would Ford have called him 'bud'? Why were he and Mabel so comfortable around Ford?

Bill was standing next Ford's corpse, beckoning for Dipper to follow. _Answers – THIS WAY!_

Dipper stood and returned to his sprinting, oblivious to the sounds of his family members calling his name.

 **[0]**

Ford smiled as the arm retreated into the Nightmare Zone. Another hand extended out, this one holding a small vial. It was the size of Ford's thumb and full of a thick yellow substance.

Ford reached out and picked up the vial. "Thank you Xexel, our business is complete." He stated.

Xexel's hand returned to its world and Ford uncapped the vial.

Lockhart called out. "Please don't do this. You don't have to do this, you know that…right…?"

Ford raised an eye and for the first time since the two of them met, Lockhart realized that they had seen each other before he had found Ford in that cell (but where oh where did they know each other from?).

"You're so trusting, Jacob. Just like Fiddleford. Just like Bill, now that I think about it. You're inflated on your own ego, you can't grasp how easy it is to manipulate you." Ford stated, sounding sadder than spiteful.

Then he downed the vial. All his blood glowed yellow as The Machine transformed into a pile of dirt. And as Ford began to crackle with power, Lockhart saw the family resemblance.

Ford snapped his fingers, and then he was gone, leaving nothing but the two tons of soil behind him.

 **[0]**

Mabel had called Candy, as she ran. She was still following Dipper but had been forced to stop twice. Her legs ached and her voice was sore from calling after him. She rounded a bend and stumbled out into the clearing.

In the center, Dipper was sitting away from her, staring at something.

"Dipper?" She called, afraid of what answer she might receive.

He didn't respond.

"Dipper, what's going on!?" She asked as she approached him. Her stomach became upset at the thought that he might turn toward her and his eyes would have slits for pupils.

She bent checked his face. He was deathly pale, but his eyes were perfect.

"Dipper, please…" She begged. "Tell me what's wrong."

Dipper raised a shaky hand and pointed toward a rock. She followed his finger and realized that it wasn't a rock, it was a statue, he was staring at.

She stood, rubbed her eyes, and stepped closer. The statue greeted her with an open palm, welcoming a handshake. It was a stone, perfect sculpture of Bill. Except his head took up all his body.

The dam which had held her lost memories broke, drowning her just like they had her brother.

 _"I'm just telling you, that the memories they invent to replace the ones you're destroying…may be worse than the ones you are trying to erase."_

 _"That's where you're wrong. There are no worse memories than what they've seen, now get rid of them."_

 _"I'm telling you, Lee, she looks just like I did when I was possessed."_

 _"Look, McGucket will take care of it. They will be right as rain."_

 _"Grunkle Ford, look! I made another journal!"_

 _"Oooh, there's a lot of cool information in here Dipper. Let's mark it so that you remember which is which, okay?"_

 _"Okay!"_

 _"Woah, woah, woah…Mabel, sweetie, don't go near that!"_

 _"Why not? Because we might accidentally get a clone of you running around. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"_

 _"Guard your side. That's it, always be ready to guard your side._

 _"Remember always have a plan B."_

 _"Relax, it isn't a real deer. Just shoot it."_

"Whoops! Now QuestionMark is dead, how are you going to complete your precious Zodiac now, you little cretins?"

 **"You think I'm going to fall for that trick? You think just because you switched clothes I'm not going to know the difference? I know the two of you like the back of my hand. Now Sixer, I'll give you one last chance to take the deal before we find out what ShootingStar looks like, with her skin inside out."**

 _"I…I'm sorry, Mabel…I had to…if I didn't…he…he was going to kill you. He was going to kill everyone..."_

Dipper had broken down crying after he had shot Ford. He had been twelve. That was too young. But if he hadn't shot Ford while Bill was in Ford's body, then the demon would have won. It would have all been over.

Her fault. It had been her fault.

 _We never touch that, understand? We never touch the tear. I'm going to put it back in the safe, you run along and play._

Why had it existed? Because Mabel had a little mark on her hand, a mark that was going to allow Bill to use her. That had turned on The Machine and used it to get rid of the mark.

Many years later, Mabel had made a deal with Bill, the rift, in exchange for an eternal summer. She hadn't known what she was doing.

And everything had gone to hell.

Dipper had been broken from shooting Ford. Mabel had been suicidal. The whole town had become traumatized if not outright insane by Bill's attack. McGucket had wiped all the whole town's minds of the apocalypse.

Stan had done something. He had done something to their heads before he took them to Gravity Falls.

"Mabel…Dipper…are you two alright?"

Mabel turned and her eyes met Stan's.

 **[0]**

Robbie stood by the side of the road, his thumb out. He needed to hitchhike back to Gravity Falls. He had to get back before something went wrong.

"So, you're the first one who figured it out, huh?"

Robbie turned and Ford was standing behind him. Ford was dressed in a tuxedo, and his glasses were gone. His six fingers gripped the lapel of his coat.

Robbie started to back away.

"I would advise against that…you don't want to get hit by a car. Take it from me." Ford recommended. Robbie raised a chunk of asphalt which had fallen off the road.

Ford grinned. "You know, I could give you back your sister if you want."

Robbie didn't flinch. "You're not real. You're not the real thing, are you?"

Ford gave a shrug identical to the kind that Bill did. "A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B. Now, put down the rock, an atomic bomb wouldn't phase me the way that I'm feeling now."

Robbie threw the rock and darted toward the woods. Ford materialized in front of him and gripped him by his hoodie. "Relax, buddy…I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to have a little conversation is all."

Robbie's legs kicked the air as Ford teleported them both into the woods, far away. Mabel was yelling at Stan, and Dipper was crouched in front of them both, his head in his hands.

Ford lowered Robbie to the ground and grew a distant look. "Do you know why so many horrible things happen to you?"

Robbie didn't answer.

"I'm guessing that Fiddleford found you, while your body. He brought it to my brother, and they restored the blood in your body using The Machine. The world has been trying its damnedest to kill you because you aren't supposed to be alive." Ford smiled and continued without glancing at Robbie. "Your dream about your sister, warning you? Most likely a nightmare brought on by blood loss and suffocation of the brain. You've seen Dipper holding that red book which his memory loss made him think belonged to me, and your mind just jumbled it all up."

Robbie just stared at Ford and realized that the man was perfectly serious. He knew all of this out of some divine knowledge.

"Watch this next part." He said with a small voice as he gestured toward Mabel. "This next is what humanity is all about."

 **[0]**

"What did you do to our parents?!" Mabel asked.

Stan raised his hands, palms wide. "Mabel, I didn't do anythi-!"

"You used us, to fix The Machine," Dipper said in a monotone voice, scarier than Mabel's rage. "You gave me that book of scribbles, The Journal didn't have anything in it. You just needed to trigger my memories. You left it where you knew I would find it."

"I didn't-" Stan claimed, angry at the accusation.

"Yes! You did! What does that Machine do that's so important anyway?" Mabel demanded.

Stan closed his eyes. "Alright. Your house was attacked by Bill's cultists. You two fought them off but your parents died. You two refused to come back to the valley since Bill broke in. So, I had to wipe your memories. I knew you two would be able to handle yourselves, and I needed you to find the clues that Ford left to operating The Machine. I needed The Machine…so that I could…so, that Fiddleford and I could become young again. Once I was sure I could take care of you two, and you had…spent enough time that you trusted me again, we were going to be a family again."

Dipper spoke up, turning a glare on Stan. "You didn't just delete their deaths. You deleted most of our memories of our parents. The reason…" He took a shallow breath. "…the reason that I'm so messed up…is because you fucked with my head!"

Stan flinched at the cold shout, and Mabel wasn't the angry one anymore. She was somberly staring at Stan, while Dipper glared at the ground hatefully.

"None of this would have happened if you had told us what The Rift was. What The Machine did. If you had just fucking told us about Bill, if you had let us live with what he'd done, then we wouldn't be like this! We would be…normal."

Ford stepped into the clearing. "Well, do you want to tell them Lee, or should I break the bad news?"

Both the twins stared at him with newfound fear. His smile didn't waver in the least.

Stan didn't reply and Ford grinned. "Your parents weren't killed by cultists. I wasn't around, but either Lee or his flunkies killed them. I'm guessing that after you two returned traumatized and depressed, your parents became desperate. It took three years for Bill to regenerate enough to call to them. If Stan hadn't gotten rid of them, I'm guessing they had met with the rest of the cultists, and Bill would have physically manifested."

Ford glanced at Stan and his smile disappeared. "Had Stan talked with them more often, maybe they wouldn't have allowed Cipher to take over their bodies."

Dipper got to his feet. "Why us? Why our family? What are you hiding?"

Ford shifted his eyes to Mabel. "Your sister met my father. I'm sure she can tell us why he always wore sunglasses and why he was such a psychopath. My mother fell in love with a man who acted as a shell for Cipher's plans."

Dipper glanced at Mabel and Mabel gazed at Ford, her stomach turning.

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked. "Mabel never-"

"Time Travel. I invented a device to move a person through time. I later used it to torture the man who ruined Fiddleford's life. I'm sensing she met Pop back when you and I were tiny." Ford answered.

Mabel's eyes widened. "You aren't human, are you?" She muttered.

"None of us are," Dipper realized aloud.

"Well, let's see, I'm one half-demon, and you two are one-sixth demon," Ford stated as he brushed his chin. "Stan and I swore to never tell you two about your great-grandfather, but I suppose that was just an excuse for keeping you two as naive as possible for if we could."

Mabel stepped closer to Ford. "How do you know? How do you know that I went back in time?"

Ford's expression lost all its wrinkles. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag."

He closed his eyes and a yellow glow covered his body. He regressed forty years and when he opened his eyes, they were all staring at him in horror.

He smiled. "What? I promised Xexel I'd give him Bill in exchange for reality manipulation. Stop acting so surprised, I told you that I would teach Dad a lesson one day, and now I really have."

Stan removed his gun. "You're not Ford."

Ford frowned. "I'm as close as you're getting, Lee. I'm not the real deal, but PineTree shot _that guy_. I'm just plan B."

The Cloning Machine. It all came running back to Dipper, how Ford had used it on a hamster to create a perfect clone. He had told Dipper that clones created by the machine had a two-week long existence. Grunkle Ford had also been constantly working. Grunkle Ford had believed, that he might never finish all his work.

Ford's disregard for his own safety was also most visible when he experimented on himself with his own inventions.

"You're a clone..." Dipper muttered, not even registering what Ford had called him.

Ford nodded. "Before I explain everything, I should get this out of the way," Ford stated. He snapped his fingers and Robbie lifted from the trees behind, into the air. Candy did likewise, from behind the rock which she'd been hiding.

"This is really a family conversation, and since neither of these two have demon-blood, I'm guessing that they can't relate." He flicked his hand, and they both slowly descended to the ground. The moment that they touched the ground, they turned into statues.

Perfect, marble statues, both Robbie's horrified expression and Candy's disturbed one, captured on their faces. They stood, contrasting Bill's granite statue in the light of the fading sun.

Mabel screamed. Stan fired. The bullet passed through the clone, and he didn't even flinch. "Mabel, Lee, please…relax. I'll turn them back as soon as we're finished with our conversation."

"Turn them back! Turn them back!" Mabel insisted, now charging at the clone.

Mabel floated off the ground, trapped in a tiny field of anti-gravity. She ceased shaking her fists and realized her own predicament. She started to scream at the clone, but he made another hand gesture and she lost her voice.

Stan fired twice more at the thing that wasn't his brother. This time, the bullets turned to water before they even left the barrel.

"That's enough shooting thank you very much." The clone stated as he moved his hand and the gun disappeared. It reappeared in his hand, and he stared into the barrel, before tossing it to the ground.

"Now, if you'll let me finish my story." He asked, in an only slightly annoyed tone, now raising Stan and Dipper off the ground to prevent them from running off. "The original copy of me, left me frozen in a bunker somewhere, waiting for the right time. Someone broke me out and threw me in a room. Mr. Bergmann, I believe. He used to clone teenage boys before he started working for Gideon Gage. He kept me imprisoned until Lockhart broke in, and when I saw you, Lee, I remembered the deal that the original copy had made with Xexel. I knew I only had two weeks to live, so I set about destroying Bill's allies and arranging that everyone in the Zodiac was nearby and 'relatively' undamaged."

A throne grew out of the ground, from stone, and the clone sat down in it. "Now, I don't have to worry about dying, _and_ I can protect my family from death too." He snapped his fingers, and they all descended slowly to the ground. Mabel's voice returned and she started mumbling to herself, just so that she could hear her own voice.

Stan stepped forward. "Ford, you need to stop this, you need to revert this."

Finally, Ford grew emotional. "What? You want me dead too, Lee?" He sneered. "I expect that from the twins maybe, but you? After all the years you spent, trying to bring me back? All the time you spent, pretending that Fiddleford was me?"

Stan closed his eyes. "Ford, there has to be a better way. You're already hurting people, without meaning to."

Ford's eyes glowed yellow. "No! Not after everyone is finally out of the way. Lee! I can keep all four of us alive, forever. I can't change the past, but I can give us back our future. You and me, we can be young again. I can give Dipper his eye back! I can take away all the scars, all the wasted time. I can undo all the damage that Dad has been doing to us since the moment we were born. I can make us safe, Leland. Finally, completely, _safe._ "

Mabel fell to her knees in front of him. "Please...please turn my friends back." Her voice was shaking, as she had now realized he was unstoppable. "Please…they don't deserve to be this way. This is wrong…just please turn them back."

He put his hand on her chin. "Oh ShootingStar, you're so naive." His kind smile turned cruel. "Trust me, these two will eventually just betray you anyway." He gestured to the petrified teens.

Mabel shook her head, but Ford didn't speak. "I have heard the thoughts of everyone I've ever met, ever since I was a little baby. They've all wanted to hurt me, ever since they met me. I used to think I was insane…"

He raised his face from Mabel's, his touch causing her to become stiff. Her body temperature lowered and Dipper realized that he was accidentally sharing his memories with her, messing with her head. "…but then I would look to Lee. And hear those warm thoughts, about me."

He stepped closer to Stan, who was now holding shielding Dipper with his body.

"Lee, I've been waiting for this moment, this moment to finally be too powerful for anyone to ever threaten. I've been waiting for it ever since I heard your dreams, about you and me, sailing the world together. Those mobsters, who tried to kill you? I tracked them down after I killed Phillip's body. Fiddleford? He wanted to fix his own mind before it rotted away, and I gave him that opportunity because I knew he would be useful!" Ford summoned coins in his hands. "I built The Machine so that you and I could get our childhood's back so that I could repair my fingers. Only you ever believed in me, Leland, and that's all I ever needed. Dipper and Mabel? You wanted kids, so I pretended to love them. And now…now it's all here. Everything is in its right place, all you have to do is embrace it."

Ford opened his eyes, expecting a hug with the most sociopathic expression that Dipper had ever seen. He didn't realize, in the least, how terrible what he was saying sounded.

Stan stared at his brother and shook his head. "Ford…whatever you are…this isn't right. Please…just…go."

Ford's eyes twitched. "Lee…" He gave a hollow laugh. "I did this all for you, Lee! For us! You and me forever, remember? I don't have to be this…stodgy, pretentious, paranoid anymore. I'm free. We're free." Ford extended his hand. "You're the only person I have ever trusted Lee. Please, now it's your turn to trust me."

Stan moved past Ford, over to Mabel. He bent and comforted her, and the blueness in her face slowly receded, as he told her that everything would be fine.

Ford watched Stan's movements. His eyes turned to slits and his lips quivered. He snarled and flicked his hand.

Stan flew off Mabel and struck a tree. As Stan cried out, vines curled out of nowhere and wrapped around his arms, holding them taught to the sides of the tree. Ford marched toward him, causing Mabel to turn to stone as he passed her and she tried to reach out and stop him.

"I should have known better." He said, in the regular voice that he had used before today in all his interactions. "I should have known you would pick _dying_ , over saying that you love me, Leland."

Stan winced as Ford got closer, the latter's skin turning red as his eyes glowing bright yellow. _"You will say that you love me, Leland. None of the whores you've ever slept with have meant shit to you. I have. You pretended that Fiddleford was_ me _. Whenever you look at Dipper, you think about_ me _, Leland. You took_ my _name!"_ Stan winced as the vines tightened. _"Just tell me that you love me, tell me that you haven't given up on me Leland. I need you."_

Stan shook his head. "Ford, you need hel-"

 _"I'm not crazy! You told me that! You told me to punch anyone who ever told me that I needed help, Leland. You told me to follow my dreams. You told me to protect myself. You told me that I couldn't trust anyone."_ Ford claimed, his voice the sound of volcanic vents opening and closing. His expression was a mixture of rage and agony.

Stan met Ford's eyes and spoke in a certain, but powerful voice. "I'm sorry, Ford. I…I really, _really_ am. But when I told you those things…I was wrong."

Ford's eyes widened. Dipper approached as Ford's skin turned sea blue and he grew two extra pairs of arms. He gripped Stan with them as he spoke. The whole world stopped in that moment, time standing still for the Pines Family as Ford ordered his brother while half-suffocating him.

 **"You will love me, Lee. I don't care how many hundreds of years I have to keep you with me. I don't care what I have to do. You will learn to love me, Lee."**

Dipper shook his head as he spoke. "No. He won't."

Ford turned, the purple flame in his eyes roaring at the interruption. He turned away from Stan and marched toward Dipper, growing bigger with every moment.

 **"And why is that?"** Ford asked, looming over Dipper and ready to smite him in various ways.

Dipper stared up at him without the least bit of fear. "Because you did this out of fear, not out of love. And because he can't love you the way you want him to."

He glanced at the statue of Mabel.

"That's something you've got to accept and move on with. Just like your fear that someone is going to kill you. Just like your fear that you are a monster. You have to accept and move on." He relayed, wondering why he had never told Mabel how lucky he was to have her.

Ford stared at Dipper for a few seconds. His eyes turned from flame to bright white. He glanced at the teenagers he'd transformed into statues. He glanced at Stan, and then at Dipper.

He stared down at his six hands, and at the six fingers on all of them.

He transformed back into a man in his seventies, with two extra fingers and a terrible life. He glanced back at Stan, and the vines disappeared.

"Lee…I didn't want…" He started. Stan didn't look at him, just at the ground. Ford swallowed and continued, his voice became heartbreaking as all his self-assurance dwindled out of existence. "Lee…I…I can't take being afraid all the time. I can't take it…hearing their voices. You don't know how…how it feels…being powerless, knowing how little you know..."

Ford looked away. He snapped his fingers. The statues returned to people. Dipper's eye regenerated. Robbie's arm did likewise, and the particles which made him a target for doom were replaced with stable ones. Candy's mind was returned to the way it was supposed to be.

Mabel and Dipper's scars and brands faded into non-existence.

And then Ford was gone.

 **[0]**

Dipper walked out of the woods, his tux making him feel hot in the spring breeze. Mabel sat up ahead, her feet dangling over the edge of the cliff that Robbie had shown Tambry. She was in a black gown and had her head balanced on her left hand.

He sat down next to her and tugged at his collar. "It's a beautiful day…" He said, in a small voice.

She made a noise indicative of approval.

Dipper put his hands in his pockets and stared out at the valley. "It's a beautiful view…too."

"It's supposed to rain," Mabel stated as if that had been promised to her.

Dipper smiled. "I didn't know that you hated sunshine so much."

Her gaze didn't move from the valley. "It's supposed to rain when you have a funeral. It's not even snowing. Everything became sunny and happy, right when it's supposed to be sad."

Dipper's smile disappeared and he searched her face. All he saw was ambivalence. She was almost as good at hiding her emotions as he was.

"Mabel…it's okay, that it happened this way…" He tried to convince, not feeling too convinced himself.

"Is it?" She asked, giving him a cold glare. When he flinched, she returned her eyes to the valley. "Dipper…there were supposed to be tears."

"The funeral hasn't happened ye-"

"WHEN STAN DIED!" Mabel exclaimed, scaring off some nearby birds. She stared at the valley and her entire pose shrunk. "We were supposed to cry and hold hands and make promises or…something. We weren't supposed to look at Stan's dead body and just feel a little bad. It should have ruined our lives, Dipper! And now we're going to go to a funeral and talk about how great he was…when he did so many horrible things! Not just to other people, to us! It's all one big lie, Dipper. We're going to lie about him being a good person, we're going to lie to ourselves and say there was nothing we could do about him dying, and everyone is going to buy it! Everyone's going to lie, because it's convenient."

She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"You want him back." Dipper stated, his eyebrows having not shifted throughout her rant.

She nodded and her breathing hitched.

"Well, so do I. And this sucks…and the fact that…we'll never get any closure with him…that we're going to have to live with the stuff we know…without him, that sucks too." Dipper picked up a rock and launched it at a pine tree. It smacked against the top of the tree, disturbing some birds.

Dipper sighed. "But not crying when he died? Mabel…Stan…towards the end…the reason he died was because of Ford. That…that killed him. It took months…but it killed him."

Dipper closed his eyes. "There's only so many times you can cry, knowing that death is coming for someone, before you just can't cry anymore."

He opened his eyes, and Mabel leaned toward him. They hugged, and then she stood up. He took the hand she offered and pulled himself to his feet.

"C'mon," He said, gesturing towards the path they had taken. "They're waiting."

Mabel took one glance back at the valley. Then she turned back to him and the two of them returned down the mountain, without speaking a word. Candy was waiting outside the car. Robbie was listening to some rock ballad on the radio, in the driver's seat.

She offered a small smile. "Are you two alright?" She asked while offering a small smile.

Mabel nodded. "Thanks for waiting." She kissed Candy lightly on the cheek, and the shorter girl blushed and smiled.

Dipper and Mabel slid into the back of Stan's old car, while Candy took the front seat. As they drove to Robbie's house, Dipper realized that Stan had fucked with both Candy and Robbie's lives. He and Mabel were lucky.

They climbed out and Robbie led Grandpa Shermy (the only other person who had shown up), into the graveyard. The ditch had already been dug, and the body prepared last night. Robbie and Dipper lowered Stan into the grave, neither looking directly at the body.

Robbie had made Stan look peaceful. It hadn't been a peaceful death. He had wasted away, ever since Ford had disappeared. He'd grown quiet, and then almost completely despondent. Over the past two weeks, Dipper and Mabel had to beg him to eat and drink. Finally, three days ago, his heart had just given out on him.

They had returned from the grocery store and found him sitting on a rocking chair, on the front porch of their new house. He had worn the most anguished expression which Dipper had ever seen.

Robbie covered the casket and they began the digging process. All of them picked up a shovel and helped, except for Grandpa Shermy, who just watched with a disappointed look on his face.

Dipper stepped up to the headstone, his eyes on the freshly covered grave. He removed a crumpled note from his pocket. His speech. He had toiled over it, last night.

He glanced up at Mabel and then glanced at the fading sun.

He crushed the note and stuffed it back into his pocket. He stepped closer to the headstone and spoke in a powerful if tired voice. "Stanford Leland Pines made a lot of mistakes. He hurt a lot of people, mostly without meaning to. But…that's because Stan wasn't a very good person. He knew that, and he never tried to hide it." Dipper felt a familiar lump in his throat and closed his eyes. He could still hear Stan, ranting about sports or prices going up. He could still feel the man trying to protect him from the whole world.

"But he was the strongest man who I have ever known," Dipper stated. "And when he died, that meant the fight was finally over. He didn't have to be strong anymore."

Ah, there were those tears that Mabel had been looking for.

He smiled. "I hope I can be that strong when I need to."

 **[0]**

 **Message: R** **ewsna on evah sgnihtemos. Dedoced eb tnac sgnihtemos.**

* * *

 ** _Thank you all so much. It has meant the world to me, that so many people liked this series._**

 _TheWraithOfTheNineDevils_ **:** _Is the next chapter the end of the entire story? Or will they be another "season" after this?_

 _ **This is the end.**_

 _The Keeper of Worlds_ : _Wow, lots of death and morbid reveals going on here now. Things are about to get truly nasty. Plus, the congealing blood from amalgamation is a pretty good giveaway that things are hitting the fan in a MASSIVE fubar scenario. All the agents' heads imploding just truly compounded things._

 ** _Thank you for your support so far. You taught me what the word "fubar" means if nothing else. ;)_**

 _Coldblue:_

 _Questions_

 _1) Will we ever find out why Bill Cipher dislikes Dipper Pines so much? Was the reviewer Sitution71 on to something with the ideas of Reincarnation and Multiverse?_

 ** _Dipper shattered Bill's consciousness when he shot Ford. Bill originally thought that Stan had done that, but in the "Nightmare to Reality" he figured out that Dipper had done it. That's why he allowed Dipper and Candy to win and save Stan._ **

_**The fact that Dipper had killed him, made him attractive to Bill. That's why he took over Dipper's body before Mabel's and caused Dipper more pain.**_

 _2) Is Bill Cipher Apocalypse only in the area of Gravity Falls or all around the World? Is it just located within Gravity Falls, then is there Supernatural/Dimensional Barrier that sort of have Governments wondering and questioning what going on? 3) Does the Zodiac come into play soon? Would that mean Robbie Valentine can't leave Gravity Falls just yet?_

 _ **During the weeks that Bill ruled, he hunted down Robbie and Tambry and brought them back to the valley. He wasn't as powerful as he'd been when the rift was broken open because he had manifested in a way that meant his full body was still trapped in the Nightmare Zone, but that his consciousness was on Earth.**_

 _ **There was a barrier. It was destroyed when Bill's form was shattered by Dipper shooting Ford.**_

 _7) What your next big story? "Rick and Morty" or perhaps a "Star vs the Forces of Evil" Fan Fiction stories?_

 _ **I'm not sure. I want to make something happier, but it is likely that I'm going to be spending less and less time on fanfiction from now on. It saddens me, but I have so many original ideas that I want to make, that it may be a long time before I make something else.**_


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